The Last Stop
by Atheniandream
Summary: Based on a Prompt from @Darveyfics. 'They had been fighting. If that's what you could call it...' **CHAPTER EIGHT NOW UP**
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes:_

 _Based on a Prompt at Darveyfics. Post 7.10. This one got WAY outta control, and I originally pledged never to write this sort of fic...until now! lol :face palm:_

 _If you've been reading on Darveyfics skip to Chapter Two when it's up! A __

* * *

 _._

 ** _The Last Stop_**

 _By Atheniandream / Redwineonavanillaskye_

* * *

 _They had been fighting. If that's what you could call it..._

Tooth and nail, blood, sweat and tears, _cats and dogs_...the whole gambit of idioms didn't quite match up for what it looked like.

Like a shock to the system, they suddenly went from being an unsinkable ship and an unstoppable force, to being akin to one hundred screaming people bobbing about in an ocean filled with bloodthirsty sharks and no 'saving' flare for the starless night sky.

 _Like the tearing down of a house, as the family that it was taken from, look on in horror._

 _His words came out like acid._

 _Her replies stuck to them like glue._

 _Neither seemed to be getting out 'alive', by this point._

They hadn't even been discreet, their voices reaching past glass, like they could shatter it, and behind closed doors like they could rip them from their hinges.

" **You know** , Donna, _you know_ that what _you did_ was the one thing in the world that I can't _**ever**_ forgive you for!" He says, his breathing shallow.

"I don't care if you forgive me or not, Harvey." She says, spitting the words at him. "For once this isn't _about you and your bullshit._ _Or you and your girlfriends_ , that I have spent my _entire **career**_ helping you with...this is about _ME_. And what _I_ needed to know." She gestures to herself. "And if I thought _for a second_ that you'd treat me like this? Then I would have _never_ followed you this far in the first place." She says, her words causing a reverberating shock between them. "Maybe I made a mistake in coming with you." She blurts out.

He pauses, then. _Visibly hit by her unbridled meaning._

He swallows. " _Donna_ ," He manages, his jaw setting like a warning.

" _No, Harvey_. From this moment on... _we_...are **done**." She bites, turning on her heel.

He reigns in a breath, his eyes bulging at her words, his chest stuttering in an effort for breath before he double takes, following her.

He's on autopilot then, forgetting the quiver in his heart and suddenly driven by fury and anger and frustration that she's _always_ the one to have the last word. The one to hurt him. _The one to leave_.

And he's done letting her have the last of them.

He marches out of his office, seeing her suddenly redder hair whip around the corner.

"Harvey?" Mike comes into view in front of him, a look of concern on his face, and a file in his hands as he turns to him.

"Mike, not now!" He snaps, slashing his arm into the air and passing his Partner.

He's sure he hears his footsteps follow him, but he's like a shark then, zoning in on his target with only crimson in his eyes.

He strides towards the elevator, people milling about there casually and contradictory to the motor in his head as he spots her slide between the two doors. He quickens his pace, his feet almost rising from the ground as he bounds towards her to try and catch her. He witnesses her ignore him, pointedly, as she presses the buttons several times.

"Donna!" He shouts, his hand colliding with metal as his only chance slides shut against him.

"Harvey!" He hears Mike call after him, as his attention catches to the next available elevator, as he glides between the doors, pressing the button to prematurely close them.

.

* * *

Donna's breath is coming in waves, her heart hammering in her chest.

 _She's done._

She's reached her limit. Finally, she's run out of patience for them.

 **Paula Agard can have him**. He's worth nothing to her now.

 _Maybe he was always an asshole and she was blind to it this entire time... _

Maybe she never broached the subject with him, because deep down in her heart she knew that he didn't have it in him. That she had never been _the one_ for him. That their situation was just ghosting on stolen time, now, every grain of salt running to an end.

She feels herself start to hiccup with a panicked cry, and stops breathing just to claim a little control.

She taps her foot, ignoring the other people that enter and exit the metal box, and concentrates on the number of the floors that decrease sequentially.

When the elevator his '0′ she's out of there quicker than a rat down an aqueduct, her heels clicking with a force against the polished concrete flooring as she stalks towards the turnstiles.

Bag or no bag _she is out of there_. _She mentally thanks herself for wearing a dress with pockets, her phone and two twenties her own salvation._

She counts the steps until she reaches the doors.

 _Doors mean a cab,_

 _And a cab means an escape._

 _From him. From them. From her nightmare._

. .

He sprints out of the elevator, his heart leaping in his chest with an abruptness, when he spots her rounding the corner to the exit, a whip of auburn hair and intent. He curses her and the air around him at the fact that she has a firm head start. Luckily, his anger is still potent enough, adrenaline coursing through him at a velocity, as he pushes past the turnstile.

He sprints towards the main doors, as they open out onto the busy street.

He blinks, slightly breathless from the ordeal rather than the exercise, his eyes scanning both directions, before he spots her weaving in and out of the heavy foot traffic, boundless on those sky high heels of hers.

. .

She curses the lack of free cabs, her hand waving in a fruitless attempt. She turns, her heels stamping the sidewalk again as she decides that _she'll make it out of there on foot if she has to_. Her tears are free flowing now, giving people an adequate reason to step clear out of her way as she plants a new objective.

. .

"Hey," He hollers, running after her retreating form. "Donna!" He fires her name like a single bullet in a gun, anger fraying out into his tone of voice enough to leave him breathless once more.

She's still walking away, reaching the corner of the block that their building is on.

He feels a panic rise in him, as his footsteps slow, their distance shortening from his effort.

"Donna, just...STOP." He shouts. More warning in his voice, then, as he watches her look back at him, before glancing to her right with a sense of panic.

 _Her heeled foot steps onto the tarmac, and then suddenly everything slows down._

 _Second by second...moment by moment._

She didn't look _left_.

 _A drone of a horn fills the air, a disconnected sound, that causes his brain to short and his body to freeze on the spot, watching in horror as a blur of dirty white and silver knocks into her, frame by frame, her red hair and green dress dancing with a weightlessness into the mid-air, as her feet leave the ground, black Manolos with a streak of scarlet red taking flight as the impact shoves her sideways and out into the main street._

She lands in a pile with a crack and he gasps sharply, the sound of the large truck screeching to a halt finally, and almost crashing into a cab on the other side of the street in the process. His eyes zone in on her, as he sprints towards her, screaming out her name but never hearing the sound of his own voice reach his ears.

Suddenly he's panting and kneeling next to a pool of orange and green dipped in tie-dyed red, looking in terror at her unconscious form as his heart beats loudly in his head.

" ** _Call 911_** ," He yells to no one in particular, quickly leaning back over her. "Donna, Donna wake up. Come on! I need you to look at me." He says, his hands hovering above her. He's too terrified to touch her. Too traumatised with the images of the past few seconds flying about his head and falling against the image of her in front of him.

He feels people gather around them as his breath comes violently, his heartbeat reverberating through his chest as his vision starts to blur. He's shouting her name still into the closing silence, as colours bleed into one another and a frenzy buzzes around them in swarm. His head swims, and suddenly the buildings turn sideways, as the sky seems to fall towards him and he feels a thud, his back contacting the hard tarmac. The last thing he sees as he struggles for breath is her face, a muddle of black eyelashes and freckles and running blood as his eyes slip closed and he falls away.

He misses Mike, shaking him.

The sirens.

 _The panic._

 _._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

* * *

His eyes swim open to movement, and bright lights and an abhorrent amount of noise.

" _Mr Specter...Harvey_ , can you hear me?" Says a voice that he doesn't recognise.

He squints, looking back at the face of a man he doesn't recognise, with kind eyes and a do-gooder vibe about him, as he feels a sharp pain against the side of his head. He moves his jaw sideways, feeling a crack and a pop as the room starts to focus, people milling up and down a walkway in front of his feet.

He blinks, his senses realigning as he sees Mike's face come into view, his eyes wide as he looks at the man next to him.

"Harvey, my name is Walker, I'm a ER Doctor here." He explains. "You fainted and hit your head. Can you speak to me?"

 _Fainted._

 _Head._

The words knit in his brain as he struggles to remember why he's sat on a stretcher in what he supposes is a hospital. The Emergency Room to be exact.

"Yeah...I...I remember passing out," He says, as he looks to Mike, his memories knitting together like live wires.

 _Donna._

 _The Truck._

 _Her flying...into the air._

 _His panic._

 ** _Donna._**

He slides off the bed in one heavy motion towards Mike, the heart monitor on his index finger pulling roughly at the machine beside them. Both men braces themselves, alarm rising into their faces as he grabs hold of the rail along the stretcher for support.

"Donna... _ **Donna**_...she's..." He struggles.

"Harvey," Mike interrupts, his hands stabilising his friend's unsure footing. "Harvey...you need to sit down. _Now_. You've been unconscious for over half an hour, you need to-"

"I need to see her. _I need to_ -" He feels his breath elevate, panic ensuing his bones once more.

"Harvey you're gonna have another attack if you don't calm the hell down." Mike barks.

He looks to his friend, witnessing the worry in his face. "Mike... _it's my fault_ , I...she..." Harvey manages, beginning to panic again.

"Harvey... _Rachel's with her_ , please...just sit...for a second." He pleads.

The Doctor comes into view, his eyes serious and commanding in a way that seems to get through to him. _It must be the sharp pain in his head..._

"Mr Specter...you've hit your head with considerable force when you passed out. You need to be examined before I can let you go anywhere right now." He says, his voice solid. "I know that someone you care about has been in an accident, but you'll be no good to her like this. So please... _just let me give you the once over_. I need to make sure you'll have no lasting effect, or a worse, a concussion."

He cracks his knuckles, his eyes bearing down on the seemingly competent man in front of him.

 _It seems that today he's filled with new approaches to things, as he reluctantly does as is told._

He feels weird, off kilter, and slightly dizzy, giddy almost as the Doctor flashes things in his eyes, and makes him recount his whereabouts as his best friend scrutinises him.

He focuses on the specks of blue in the shitty off-white ceiling tiles, just to stop him from punching the man who's invading his personal space.

The Doctor's voice rises into his attention then.

"Harvey? _Did you hear what I said_?"

"What?" He frowns, looking to the man.

"Have you ever had any spells like this before?" He asks again, slower this time.

It immediately riles his already heightened emotions.

"Ugh...yeah...I...had a... _few of them_...over a year ago." He says, sighing heavily.

"Do you know what triggered them? _At the time_?" He asks.

 _Donna._

"Mr Specter?"

 _...Donna..._

"Yes." He answers, blinking.

 _Green and Orange and Red..._

"What caused them?" The Doctor asks again.

His eyes flick to Mike, and the awkward look of concern on his face, before looking back to the Doctor.

 _He feels cornered. And panicked._ Anger growing in his gut that makes him feel like he's going to burst, if he doesn't get out of this situation and find Donna immediately.

"The woman in the accident... _left me, at the time_. So...unless I have a concussion, Doc, then I need to go find her... _ **now**_." He says, his jaw fusing with a frustration.

"Harvey," He hears Mike's tempered warning in the background.

He looks into a pair of alien brown eyes, that observe him for a moment or two.

"Mr Specter, you need regular fluids, and you need to relax. You _may_ be in shock." He warns.

He mashes his lips together. "That mean I can go?" He asks, sarcasm in his voice at being kept this long.

When he gets no answer, he slides off the bed in a huff, grasping his coat from a nearby chair.

. . .

"Harvey!"

He hears Mike's panicked voice behind him as he stalks the hallways.

He had marched in the direction Mike had inferred, his paperwork for being admitted folding into his inside jacket pocket, as he searches the many signs for the Emergency Department ICU.

He had found out from Mike that Rachel was _also_ Donna's Emergency Contact, making information available to her immediately.

 _That was at least something._

"Harvey, you need to calm down." Mike says, flanking Harvey's pace.

"No. I need to see her. Then I'll calm down." He corrects, continuing to walk.

" _Harvey_ ,"

"Mike...just help me get there," He asks, his voice strained as they march towards the arrows marked.

When they round the corner to the ICU, He sees Rachel stood by some chairs, her dark almond shaped eyes connecting with his, brimmed filled and a broken expression on her face.

"Rachel. _Where is she_..." Harveys orders, his wide eyes connecting with hers.

"They're operating on her. She's... _she doesn't look good_ , Harvey, she," Rachel breathes, looking between them both with a held panic. "There was _so much blood_..."

Mike moves to her side, briskly pulling her into his arms as she begins to rack with sobs.

Harvey falters, taking a step back. "I need to... _sit down_..." He says, his breath starting to elevate again, as Mike's worried expression directs to him.

 _They're working on her._

Maybe it's good that he can't see her. _Maybe he'd lose it again if he did_ , he thinks to himself, as he slumps into a chair, snapping his eyes closed for a moment just to concentrate on his levelling out his breathing.

He feels a hand on his shoulder then, his head lifting for a brief moment as he looks up to see Mike sit down next to him.

"Harvey...she's gonna be okay," His friend tells him.

"She _**has**_ to be." He insists, deftly, before a sinking feeling drapes into his lap, and his back falls against the chair. "This...is all my fault." He says, frowning.

He's not sure what's worse.

The blunt hammering in his head,

 _Or the fact that no one counters his remark._

.

They sit in silence for half an hour, conversation-less and hanging on the wait for news.

Harvey feels a heavy ache in several parts of his head as it hangs in his hands. He's too overcome to talk. And too shaken to do anything that will make the pictures in his head worse than they already area. He just keeps seeing red and orange and green on rotation like a kaleidoscope, turning about in his head just to taunt him with the truth.

 _This is all his fault._

And he can think no farther than that one blinding statement.

" _Where is she_?"

They all look up to witness Louis, wide eyed and panting as he looks towards Harvey, and then to both Mike and Rachel.

Louis had been out for the day, meeting clients, and most likely had only just gotten the message that she'd left him when Mike had called her from the street.

"She's still in surgery," Mike says.

"What happened?" Louis fires at them.

Mike opens his mouth, as Harvey's voice cuts through the air in a muted version of it's usual tone.

" _We were fighting_." He recounts. "I followed her." He states. "She crossed the road...didn't look left and then...the Truck just... _she_..." He feels his breath begin to catch again, as he feels Mike grip his shoulder in support.

"So... _ **you're**_ _the reason she's here_?" Louis says, venomously.

" _Louis_ ," Mike counters, standing to attention immediately.

"No Mike, I want to hear why _once again_ , the great Harvey Specter is the one to put Donna in harm's way?" He says, before zoning in on Harvey. "Do you get that? _Do you understand that you're the **only one** who hurts her_?" He shouts.

His eyes flick up to Louis', and in a flash Mike is in between them. Any anger in his own body dissipates, as he looks into Louis's eyes, the held fury ignited there, the lividity directed only at him. Because of _**his**_ actions. Suddenly, he feels small and bared down upon. Like Louis is going to punch him for the first time in his life as the man takes a step towards them and Mike holds him off with a look.

 _And for the first time, he welcomes such an action._

 _Anything to be unconscious from this living day version of a nightmare._

" **I'm sorry, Louis**." He says, out of character and causing Mike to turn around and witness him as he erupts into a sob, his chest tightening and his lips trembling as he looks to the Managing Partner, the feeling overwhelming him with an almost violent spell of emotion. He slumps forward then, his head falling into one hand as he closes his eyes, and gulps away the tears, his chest dragging a putter of breath as his face contorts.

All he can see is _her._ Lying there. Helpless and unconscious because of him.

After a few moments he feels a hand on his back, trying to smooth the growing convulsions in him as he finally lets it all out.

 _The room closes off to him then._

 _As he hears no words._

 _And sees nothing but darkness._

Only the feel of Rachel's arm gently around him, trying to hold together his rapidly breaking heart.

. . .

He has no idea how much time has passed. Once his breath levelled out, everything pretty much slowed down, his mind cutting out all sound and activity around him except for the alien warmth of his Associate's arms around him. Rachel Zane was the kind of woman that you didn't shrug off. She was petite and kind and Mike's fiancee and above all, Donna's best friend. It meant something to her, and to him, for her to comfort him.

"Rachel Zane," He hears a woman call, as Rachel disconnects from him and they all look up at a smallish woman, with a nurse's outfit on. She looks vaguely like a woman he saw manning the reception when he had stalked into the ICU hours before.

"Yes?" She asks.

"Donna is out of surgery." The woman confirms. "She had a collapsed lung, which they've managed to re-inflate, but she's suffered a head wound, and some badly broken bones. They've done a CT scan, and she has some swelling on the brain, that they're monitoring, but, you're welcome to go in and see her now.

He notices Rachel's gaze falter, as she looks to him for a moment, before looking back at the nurse.

"Can we all go in?" She asks. "Harvey, here, is her first emergency contact and we're... _ **we're her family**_." She explains delicately.

"I don't see why not." The nurse decides, looking to the four of them. "This way." She says. "Follow me." She encourages.

Rachel looks to him, as they all follow in the direction of the nurse.

He wanders, his legs feeling numb despite his heart still beating heavily in his chest, as they round a corner.

He hesitates behind the rest, feeling unusually cowardly in the company of lions as they all walk through the large doorway. He takes a breath and readies himself, as he crosses the threshold.

He stops dead in his tracks no more than two feet away from the door, as his breath catches and sticks in his throat.

 _He would never know it were her if it weren't for the auburn hair peeking out of the top of a bandage._

Her face is bruised with a purplish tinge, with her mascara stained around her eyes and swollen red cheeks. There are tubes in her mouth and wires everywhere, all interconnecting with a sense of mayhem. He hears the sound of several different pulsing beeps and whooshes, telling him that one or more machines are helping her stay alive right now. Her left leg is in full plaster, extending to her waist. He thinks about her spine and if she can walk, but blocks out the possibilities that such a morbid thought leads to.

He feels his heart break all over again at his addled brains deduction of her state.

He notices as Rachel sits on a chair to her right, Louis to her left, and Mike, who lingers at the foot of the bed.

He hears Rachel's voice call before he processes that she's calling _his_ name.

"Harvey," She says, catching his attention. "Come sit here," She offers, moving out of the chair to stand by Mike.

He gives her a look of thanks, walking slowly over to the free chair. He slumps into it, before rethinking, and dragging it closer to the bed. On this side she looks almost normal, no broken bones or bruising really. Just a bandage on her head. He gets a flash then, a memory of before... _of the Truck...of her seemingly flying into the air with a twisted grace._

That's why she looks fine on this side. _The truck hit her on her…_

He shakes his head, pulling himself from the memory and noticing her maroon fingernails at the end of wires and tubes. He frowns to himself, and slides his right hand around hers, being careful not to affect the cannula, and giving it a little squeeze, before letting his fingers lace with hers.

He's determined now, the decision set in stone within his mind.

 **He's not leaving her side until she wakes up.**

 _He doesn't notice the three of them, looking at one another with worry._

.

Louis and Mike had gone back to the office an hour later, as they had agreed - without his input - that all four of them remaining there with Donna left the firm completely unmanned. With Harvey very stubbornly refusing to leave her bedside - much to their collective concern - Rachel had been the one to offer to stay with him. She took it upon herself to call Donna's parents and let them know what had happened. Her Mother had been on a cruise, and her Father had been upstate. Neither were going to be here until tomorrow at the very least, so Rachel had offered to give them updates. She shuddered at the thought of her parents not being there for their daughter. Her own Mother and Father wouldn't have let _anything_ stop them from getting to her. But then...they lived in the city. That was inevitably why Donna had sought family elsewhere. Why Harvey seemed to be placed between roles.

.

Harvey has been staring at Donna almost constantly since he arrived in the hospital room. He knows it's weird, but he's at a loss right now. He can't think of a world, of his, where Donna Paulsen _isn't_ in it. The thought lingers on his mind for what seems like hours, until Rachel nudges his shoulder, handing him a coffee and a water.

"Thanks Rach," He says, accepting the hot beverage as he clasps it with both hands.

"Thought you could use something. How's your head?" She asks, inferring the slightly swollen bump on his head and the smatter of blood in his hairline.

"It's fine." He lies. _He has a massive headache, but he's not about to let anyone catch onto the fact._ It's minor compared to Donna's situation. As long as he doesn't fall asleep then he's fine. He takes a sip of the drink, that hot battery acid flavour of machine made coffee stinging his lips with a distaste that has him wincing, but at least lets him know that he's still here.

It's a comfort. Because, at present he feels hollow inside.

 _It seems as if wherever she is she's taken him with her._

"Harvey, If you want to go home and freshen up...I can watch over her?" He hears Rachel say.

"I'm not going anywhere." He reams off the words with a dullness, not meeting her eye.

He notices her shift, before she sighs, sitting back.

"I'm sorry Rachel...I just...I _can't_ leave her." He corrects.

"I know." She nods in understanding. " _She probably wouldn't want you to, either_." She offers. "But...she also wouldn't want you ignoring your own needs, just to stay with her. She'd want you to take care of yourself." She adds with a softness.

The young woman is right. Despite his stubbornness.

"All that matters right now, _is her_." He says, his hold on her hand tightening as he takes another sip of the dreadful coffee.

. .

It's nearing six thirty when Rachel pops out again to grab them something more than the Hospital Cafeteria can offer, as he promises, _rather characteristically,_ not to move from the spot, but to call her if anything changes.

He watches as a nurse, an older woman comes in, and examines her, as he lets go of Donna's hand so that the woman can do the necessary patient checks. He frowns, examining the look on the woman's face, as she picks up the chart at the end of the bed, looking to Donna and then writing something down on the clipboard, before looking to him.

"You wife is one _strong_ cookie," She comments, smiling.

He frowns slightly, taken aback. "She…. _she is_." He says with the smallest of smiles. "But she's _not_ my wife." He offers, a matter of factness about his tone.

"I'm sorry, I-" The woman stumbles on the words.

"Don't be." He interrupts. "She's uh...she's very special to me." He says, his hand sliding under hers once more.

" _I can see that_." The nurse remarks carefully, before smiling gently.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. As the nurse walks away, he fishes the phone out of his pocket.

The Caller ID flashes as if it's lit in amber like a warning.

His right hand rises, as he looks to his left.

 _Five messages from Paula. One...no...two phone-calls. Both to voicemail._

He frowns, his hand slipping from hers as he places his phone on airplane mode, and stuffs it back in his coat pocket, before hanging his coat on the back of his chair.

 _He doesn't want to deal with telling her. Telling her, means explaining. Explaining means her coming here. And her coming here, means that she'll encourage him away._

And...he's _not_ leaving. _So there it is._

He rolls up each of his sleeves, remembering that his tie had been taken off when he'd passed out, leaving him in an unnatural state of undress. He's become so used to being suited and booted over the years, that being less than is always an uncomfortable experience. He'd rather be one or the other. Formal. Or Casual. He undoes another top button of his shirt, his hand rubbing tiredly at his face as his eyes flick back to Donna.

She looks so peaceful, although still attached to the respirator. He watches as the machine presses the air into her lungs with a woosh and a hiss.

He hates the thought of her unable to breathe by herself. She's always been so strong, so capable, and in all the years they'd never once had a situation like this, where either of them was ever in danger. Mike and Louis had been the only ones in their immediate lives to face such a threat.

His hand tightens back around hers as he watches her intently, for any sign of movement.

"Hows our girl?"

He hears Rachel's voice as she wanders into the room. He looks up to observe a bag of food in one hand, as his own becomes free. He smiles tiredly, watching as Rachel slides to a nearby table - the kind that patients have over their beds - and deposits the various boxes of food onto the side of the counter.

" _They allow food in here_?" He asks, giving her a curious expression.

"I figure we play dumb until they catch us," She smiles softly, handing him a box. "I got you a chicken bacon sub," She states, handing the sandwich to him.

"Thanks Rach," He smiles limply, observing her salad, probably loaded with superfoods and and ingredients he doesn't even know the name of.

They sit in silence, on their prospective chairs as they eat their food. It's not entirely uncomfortable an atmosphere.

Rachel makes him feel calm, like she's a link to Donna, and to Mike, and in her own way a link to him.

He feels less stressed with her having his back, but he can't help the niggling doubt that she thinks the same as Louis does.

"I'm sorry that I let her get hurt." He says, whilst wiping his hands on a napkin.

"Can I ask what happened?" She asks him, stuffing her fork into the bowl in her other hand.

"I...I was chasing after her... _and then_...she saw me, and she...tried to cross the street to get away from me." He sighs heavily, blinking away the abstract colours in his mind, that feel like their swan song.

"Harvey," she says, only sympathy in her voice.

" _It's my fault, Rachel_." He says, again, before taking another bite of his sandwich just to quash the bend in his throat that seems to still want to push the emotion up and out of him. He swallows, noticing her eyes still on him. "I did this to her. She deserves better." He muses.

" _She does_." She nods in agreement.

Her voice catches at his thoughts then.

"And as much as I'd like to lecture you on yours and Donna's relationship." She continues. "This...was an accident." She tells him. "Mike saw you run to her. Saw you collapse. It's not your fault that she just...made a mistake."

He feels like her words mean so many things in that moment, as he looks to his sandwich, his stomach turning slightly at the thought of such a flippant word.

 _A Mistake._

 _An Accident._

"If I hadn't run after her...she would never have forgotten herself like that." He admits.

"Harvey...she left _her bag_ at the office." She says, planting the meaning. "I don't think that she was thinking rationally." She says. "And as much as you might have been the catalyst for this situation, it's _not_ your fault that she got hurt."

He shakes his head. _He doesn't agree_ , as kind as Rachel is for trying to convince him.

He can already feel his actions haunting him.

He folds the rest of his sandwich up in its wrapping, placing it in his coat pocket, and takes her hand once more.

He's not sure when his eyelids dropped, or when his head flopped back against the chair rest, but the last thing he remembers is slipping away from the sight of white and red.

 _He dreams of white sheets,_

 _Of pale, freckly skin,_

 _And hazel eyes that challenge him._

. .


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author Notes:**_ _Huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Darvey is my muse, but you guys are my motivation. Let's make this Hiatus a short one! A__

 _. ._

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **. .**

" **Okay,** _ **Time to go**_ ,"

Harvey feels the jolt of being forced awake, the sensation of someone hitting his foot as his head shoots up to the familiar face of Mike ' _Goddamn'_ Ross smiling softly at him. He groans, looking to Donna, the steady beep of her heartbeat keeping time in the background.

 _No change._

"How long have I been out for?" He asks, his mouth stretching out into a yawn.

"A few hours. _It's eleven_." Mike says, observing his watch. "Come on, let's go." He encourages, a hand squeezing the man's shoulder.

"What?" Harvey frowns harshly, looking to his friend.

 _He thought he'd been clear. To all of them.._.

"I'm taking you to your place, so you can shower, and change out of your clothes." He explains. "Come on, you have Donna's blood all over your shirt. It's not a good look." He says again, more impatience in his tone this time.

He looks down at where he'd rolled his sleeves up, what seems like days ago. Sure enough, there was spatter of blood, pink rather than red, where it must have bled through his jacket when he hit the ground beside her.

"Mike…" Harvey says, tiredly, looking up at his friend. "I'm not leaving till she wakes up." He tells him, flat out refusing the request.

"Harvey...I'm not saying you have to _leave_. Just...come to your apartment, and freshen up, and then I'll bring you back." He wagers. "You look like shit." He adds.

He shakes his head.

 _What if her condition worsens?_

 _What if something happens and he's not here?"_

 _What if she wakes up, and again he's not here?_

" _Mike_ …I don't-" He begins.

"Rachel and Louis will be here." He says, trying to put his mind at ease. "They told Rachel that she may not wake up for a few days, because of the respirator, and the surgery." He explains. "So in the meantime, go home...get what you need, and then you can come back and sit with her."

He groans. _His friend is right._ His back is starting to ache and his shoulder is giving him some trouble now, after sleeping in the same position for too long. He smells like shit and he could really use a toothbrush now, after falling asleep.

He rises from the seat, a growing reluctance as his eyes flick to the bed one more time.

 _Mike had decided to intervene...once again. But he was worried._ And Harvey was unlike he had ever seen him be before. Withdrawn, and stubborn and immovable, almost, in his need to be with Donna. He himself had panicked at first, when he'd watched Harvey collapse in the middle of the street, with fleeting thoughts of a heart attack or something of that nature, until he'd spotted Donna, lying, immoveable against the tarmac, and covered in blood amidst the nearby crash.

He had run over, calling 911 instantly and asking casual bystanders what had happened as he tried to shake Harvey awake.

It seemed that out of everything in the entire world, Donna Paulsen being in harm, was the one thing to cause Harvey to completely distress. _He's sure that he could bet money on that never happening with anyone else._ It only added to the case against how stupid it was that they were at eachother's throats instead of holled up somewhere, on their honeymoon, making up for lost time.

He hadn't believed in soulmates, until he met Rachel.

But until he watched the two of them dance around one another like seahorses, for the entire seven years he'd known them, only then did he understand all the things a soulmate could be. And he knew, in his heart of hearts, that they'd been doing it for even longer than he had known them.

He couldn't think of a union _more_ perfect than them, and yet more steeped in misaligned intentions and repeated false starts.

. .

* * *

Harvey is quiet on the ride over to his apartment. Mike can almost see it, that pensive concentration on being emotionally elsewhere. _He's worried about her, still_. They all are, but Harvey seems to have a dark cloud hanging over and around his head. For all Harvey and Donna haven't said to one another, and all the hateful things they _had_ \- most of which he's witnessed over the past few weeks - he knows that his friend is immersed in guilt, above all else.

Mike had spent his career watching Harvey protect Donna at all costs.

 _It seems that life, outside the firm, is the one thing he can't save her from._

 _He's just not sure that Harvey's worked that out yet..._

Harvey enters his building, Mike alongside as he nods to the doorman, walking past the security guard's front desk.

"Ugh...Mister Specter?" One of the guards speaks up, looking to Harvey.

"What is it, Larry?" Harvey says, turning to the man as he pauses back in front of the desk.

"You had a visitor earlier? _Ms Agard_? At about...eight o'clock? I explained to her that you were still out." He says.

"Is she upstairs?" He asks.

"No...she said she'd check in later,"

"Okay. Thankyou." Harvey says, tapping the desk lightly as he makes his way to the elevator, Mike following close behind.

They step into the metal box, as Harvey presses the buttons to activate the right floor.

"You spoken to Paula yet?" Mike asks delicately.

Harvey sighs, his shoulders slumping. "No. _I haven't._ "

"Harvey... _she's your girlfriend_." He gently reminds him.

"Yeah. _One that doesn't like Donna_ …" He blurts out, too tired to cover himself. "I just...I don't need her...trying to convince me not to be there right now." He admits.

"Do you think she would? _Convince you to go home_?" He asks.

" _She doesn't get it_." He mumbles, shaking his head.

Mike is inclined to think that none of them really get it.

 _Two people, complimentary to one another and yet, no matter how many things are thrown their way, they never come together in the way they should._

 _They are the most bittersweet of near misses._

After interfering in their mess, Mike had temporarily sworn off of getting in the middle of Harvey and Donna. Harvey had only just begun to speak to him again after ripping him a new one for going to Donna in the first place. He has to tread carefully where either are concerned.

He leaves Harvey's comment untouched, as he watches his friend turn the lock in his front door, traipsing into the hallway with a resonant footing, as Mike closes the door behind them both.

He watches Harvey wander through the stylish lounge as he skirts the unblemished kitchenette.

"You mind if I grab a beer?" He calls to his Boss's retreating form.

"If I say no, will you get your hands out of my fridge?" He hears Harvey call back.

Mike shuts the refrigerator door, grasping the perspiring neck of a beer in his hand. " _I think you know the answer to that_." He remarks, sighing at the cool moisture of the frothy beverage sliding down his throat with a fizz and a coolness.

 _He had forgotten, in the panic, just how helpful alcohol can be at a time like this._

. .

* * *

Harvey turns on the shower, hearing the water trickle from the mixer head.

He looks to the mirror then, observing the maroon bruise and dark red slit on his forehead, that blends into his hairline. He frowns. _He hit his head pretty bad for a man that was kneeling on the ground in the first place._ He turns on the cold tap of the sink, feeling the running water under his hands as he splashes a little on his face.

His eyes are tired, his shoulders are slumping and he _still_ has a headache, now more of a dull thud in the back of his brain than the pulsating throb of before. He turns off the running tap, reaching for the cabinet to the right of him, and pulls out a white bottle, undoing the cap to pop a couple of pills in the palm of his hand.

 _Something to knock out the pain for a little while._

 _Truth is, the pain isn't just a physical one._

Any other day, he'd be reaching for his bed and drugging himself to into an undisturbed sleep.

But today...was _not_ one of those days.

He swallows the pills in one, turning on the tap to cup a drink of water in his hand, chasing the pills down his throat.

He sheds his suit then, piece by piece, carefully unlacing his shoes and pulling off his underwear and socks before hanging up his suit jacket on the back of the door, throwing his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and then walking into the shower.

He closes his eyes, letting the steam that's accumulated in the room start to overtake his senses. The rainshower is warm and inviting, and for just a fraction of a moment he forgets everything that has transpired within the day. He sighs, against the feeling hot water cascading down his skin, soaking his hair and ridding him of the sweat and blood and some of tension in his body. He turns the pressure up then, letting the weight of the water pull his neck down as he bows his head and braces himself against the wall, letting his hair soak, his face wincing as the water rushes past the planes of his cheekbones and runs down and over his chin.

" _ **I want you to say that you'll stop seeing her."**_

 _ **He turns around, looking into blue eyes and a stern gaze.**_

" _ **I'm not seeing her, Paula." He says tiredly. "She has a five hundred thousand dollar stake in my firm." He points out, walking to the kitchen.**_

" _ **She's not your Assistant anymore," She points out, folding her arms.**_

 _ **He can see her eyes saying more than that.**_

" _ **She's the COO, Paula. Her Office is beside mine!" He says, giving her a harsh look as he pulls a cold bottle of water out of the fridge.**_

" _ **And whose decision was that, exactly?" She asks, her eyebrow shooting up with purpose.**_

 _ **He pauses, looking to her.**_

" _ **What?" He squints, as if the words coming out of her mouth are too absurd to even consider.**_

" _ **Who's decision**_ _ **was**_ _ **it**_ _ **...to have your offices next one another, when your roles aren't even directly connected?" She asks, walking towards him.**_

" _ **What does that matter?" He says, landing the bottle water with force onto the kitchen counter.**_

" _ **It matters to me, Harvey. Answer the question." She presses, looking up at him with a stare he's begun to tire of.**_

" _ **Paula…" He says, his tone softening.**_

" _ **So it was**_ _ **you**_ _ **?" She snatches the words from right under him.**_

" _ **No...we...decided...together. It made sense. I didn't have an Assistant anymore...and so she…" He babbles, his head filling with things he can't quite articulate.**_

 _ **Paula shakes her head, walking away from him, a bitter laugh falling out of her mouth, before she turns back around to him, her blonde bob swishing.**_

" _ **You can't even see it, can you?" She says, her hand slicing into the air.**_

" _ **See what?" He replies, his temper beginning to fray.**_

" _ **See how far she's woven herself into your life…" She accuses.**_

 _ **He steals a breath, reigning in everything he doesn't have the courage to say.**_

" _ **Paula, It's not like that."**_

He switches the water off, the hiss dissipating into the air as he wanders out of the shower, pulling on his bathrobe with an effort, and picks a towel off the rack, rubbing at his hair. His muscles ache still, as he wipes at the mirror with one hand, moisture running at the edges of a stucco-like gap in the steam.

 _He needs to call Paula._

He needs to... _tell her_.

He needs to make things right.

 _But in his own way._

. .

* * *

On the way back out of the building, Harvey stops by the security guards once more.

"Larry...If Ms Agard comes back...as far as you know... _I haven't been back yet_." He states, folding two twenties out of his pocket and handing them to the man.

"Of course Sir. _Have a good night_." He calls after Harvey, as Mike joins him.

They walk outside, Ray waiting.

"You sure that was a good idea?" Mike asks, his tone careful.

"Mike...just... _leave it_." He says tiredly, getting in the car to avoid the conflict.

* * *

. .

Rachel is terrified for her friend. This vivacious, vibrant and cherished person is lying, unconscious, battered, bruised _and_ broken in a mint green tinged hospital with bad lighting and a dismal air to it. She's the strongest woman that she knows _and yet_ , right now she looks like the most fragile person in the world, laid there, the many lifelines of technology holding her shattered pieces together.

She's worried for the future. _Worried for Donna's future._

And oddly, _she's worried about Harvey, too_.

She can't imagine what he saw, what he witnessed. The vivid memory of such an ordeal. _Hell, he passed out because of it._ If there's anything she knows about Harvey, it's that _**Donna**_...is his only remaining weakness. _His achilles heel_. _His centre._ Like she carries some part of him within her, kept separate to protect his soul from harm.

 _Maybe that's why he keeps her at arm's length._

There is something so beautiful and yet so beguiling about their connection.

 _But what about her? What about Donna?_

 _Who holds **her** weaknesses? The fragile facets of __**her**_ _life?_

There is a disparity between them. Wider than the Nile yet more invisible than air to the naked eye. But she can see it. She's learnt to watch out for it.

They _no longer_ share in one another's protection. Harvey has pulled away from that, considerably over the past month.

And Donna, for all intents and purposes, is left out alone, now. In a way that has begun to change her friend immeasurably.

It's a cruel outcome, for two people that seemed so...set. _So_...destined for one another. So solid.

And as much as she wants to scream in Harvey's face that he needs to get his mind straight, and his priorities straighter, she has watched, tentatively, over the past six hours, as the world's most stoic man crumbles in the face of such a tragedy.

 _From selfish deflection, to stubbornly loyal and emotionally overcome._

And the guilt, he now carries with him like a cautionary tale.

She looks to her friend, still silent. Still motionless in a room that makes her feel the cold.

"Hey," She hears her Fiance's voice, as she looks up, smiling softly and meeting his eyes. "Where's Louis?" She hears Mike ask as she notices Harvey behind him.

"He's in the bathroom... _I think_." She says, straightening her back against the lousy tan coloured backrest of the hospital chairs.

She looks to Harvey then, taking in his appearance. He's dressed in casual wear, a grey sweater and slacks. She's hardly never seen him dressed down. It's a _different_ Harvey. A more relaxed one, which seems odd considering the situation. But his face is the same, tired and pensive and occupied with the woman next to them.

"You might want to grab that seat before Louis comes back." She infers the chair to the left of the hospital bed. She watches Harvey nod, padding over silently to the space, as Mike lingers by her side, her arm wrapping around his forearm, as he bends down to kiss her. She takes refuge in the fact that Mike is _for once_ , separate from most of the drama.

 _At least, he's not playing centre stage..._

It's a selfish thought, but a comfort to her nonetheless.

. .

* * *

The four of them stay there for the _entire_ night.

It's only right that they all be there.

They all skirt around Harvey, and Donna's bed like three moveable pawns around the King and Queen. Adjusting. Covering one another. Acting as a single unit of protection for them both.

Harvey sits, silently tuning out the world around him, Donna's left hand now his only focus, save for coffee and sometimes water that is placed in his hand at several different intervals.

He starts to count the defined freckles on her arm. It seems like a daunting task, until he counts roughly two hundred and eighty six. He ponders over the next consecutive number, before he feels his eyelids drop with a heaviness.

 _He dreams...of her._

 _Except...it's not a dream, this time._

It's a memory.

 _Of them, looking out over the New York Skyline, the darkness surrounding them as the many lights sparkle into the night sky._

 _His hand is in hers, her having slid her fingers in between his over ten minutes ago._

 _He hears her breath, like a calm wave as it washes over his chest._

 _ **He didn't want to be alone.**_

 _He turns to her, watching as she mimics the action, her gaze soft like melted butter and sugar in her eyes, as they meet his._

 _He smirks, something special and secret and_ _just __theirs_ _._

 _She smirks back, her jet black eyelashes fluttering slightly as she takes in his expression._

 _He feels himself lean towards her, like a moth to the flame, and watches as she steals a breath in expectation._

A familiar voice calls his name, commanding and ripping their moment from them as he turns, breaking their hands and looking out into the lit corridor and the unwelcome intruder.

 _ **This time he's able to watch, as her gaze falls to the floor, her face levelling out into a slight frown.**_

 _ **One of disappointment, as a moment is lost,**_

 _ **In between duty and circumstance and a missed opportunity that seems to haunt her.**_

. .

* * *

 _Sometimes I cannot tell the night,_

 _from the early morning._

 _Sometimes I'm thrown into the fight,_

 _without a warning._

 _And who thought we were coming,_

 _keep running._

 _Are you watching your back,_

 _or are you moving forward._

 _Are you lost in the dreams._

 _Well this is our little corner,_

 _of the universe._

 _And we will find a way home._

 _We will find a way home._

 _It goes straight to the heart._

 _We will find a way home._

 _It goes straight to the heart_

~ ' **Our Corner of the Universe** ' by K.S Rhoads

* * *

. .

Harvey Specter wakes up to annoying beeping and harsh lighting and a crick in the neck. He winces, cracking his jaw, his eye opening. For a moment, he's out of sorts, and confused at his surroundings, until his attention stops at the figure in the bed.

He stutters in breath, forgetting himself, as he adjusts quickly, noting the auburn hair and extensive bruising. He looks around, realising that no one else appears to be here. No doubt they went home to change or shower, or sleep a little. He doesn't blame them. _They didn't cause this to happen in the first place…_

He sits forward, an impulse striking him suddenly.

 _He hasn't said a thing to her since he got here nearly a day ago._

It seems weird. They've _never not talked_ , except for those moments where she refused to engage with him.

His hand moves towards hers, feeling automatic now. Not an alien gesture like it had felt like before. His hand slides underneath her left one, squeezing it. It's soft and slightly cool against his warmth. He notices that her nails are perfect, still. The one untarnished trademark that is innately _her_. He'd never seen her without her signature maroon polish, save for a few times that it had been bright scarlet red. He'd always taken notice, and always assumed she was _getting some_ when she changed it to that. He quickly douses the thought in gasoline enough to burn it from his mind.

The nurses had told them last night, after an X-Ray that she was stable, but that the swelling was still there, and she needed...time.

She had never needed 'time' before. She was... _Instantaneous._ _Reciprocative. Reactive._

He wonders how much time she would need, now.

He leans in towards her, getting a better view of her elevated position. On this side, her face is bruised and her lip is split and there is a nasty swollen bump on her hairline that almost matches his. He winces, his stomach feeling uneasy at the sight of her _so_ afflicted. He'd been avoiding the details. It was Donna, a generalised version of her in the bed, but now he's taken it all in, she looks so much worse.

"Donna..It's Harvey. You in there?" He says, before mentally kicking himself, as his eyes close and he instantly regrets the dumb statement, shaking his head in a slight embarrassment.

 _She unconscious._ She's not in a coma. _At least_ _he thinks she's not..._

"I need you to wake up." He says, his voice bending with emotion. "Because... _I need you_." He tells her.

He watches her face for signs of a response. It's possible that there won't be any. _He's not a Doctor._ He's completely out of his depth at this point, and grasping at straws. Something he seldom ever does unless he's under the gun.

He feels his breath tighten in his chest, and sits back down, keeping hold of her hand as he leans back, feeling helpless.

He feels a buzz and a vibrate in his back pocket, his eyes closing as he fishes the phone out with his free hand.

 _It's not who he thinks it is._

He sighs, a little relief washing over his features as he accepts the call and his cheek hits the receiver. "Hey Mike...did you go home?"

"Yeah, just to wash up...but that's _not_ why I called."

"She's fine. Well.." He tells him, his eyes flicking to Donna's form. " _No change_."

"I know. We called in...but... _I'm actually at the firm and_ …"

"What is it, Mike?"

"Paula...is _here_." He says awkwardly. " **In my office**." He says. "Wondering exactly where the hell _**you**_ are." He explains carefully.

He closes his eyes, suppressing the need to groan.

"Can you come down here?" He asks.

He's not leaving her alone without a sub. _This is firmly a tap in and out situation..._

"Sure. But I have a meeting at _three_...shall I ask her to wait in your office?"

"Yeah. Tell her I'll be there soon." He says, ending the call.

. .

* * *

He doesn't realise the feeling until he's exiting a cab onto the street.

There is a blood stain. _A 'Donna' shaped bloodstain..._ like an amateur spray-painted outline...right at the corner of their building, in the middle of the street.

Like a piece of their history, set on non-literal stone.

He whips around in the other direction, drawing a slow breath and marches into the building almost as quickly as he had exited it nearly twenty hours ago.

He arrives in the lobby, feeling people look at him with a strangeness as he marches towards his office. It's only as he rounds the corner, catching himself in the reflection of the glass panelling, that he remembers that he's not in a suit. That in and of itself looks like a red flag, for a Managing Partner.

He stops in his tracks at the sight of Paula, sitting in his office.

She looks pissed. Attractive, _but pissed_.

"Hey…" He says, slowing to a stop.

"You realise we were meant to be having dinner last night? _I called_. I texted you...and...nothing. What's going on, Harvey?" She asks.

 _Straight to the point, as always. It used to be refreshing. Right now, it's just...tiring._

" _I'm sorry_ , Paula, _I_...has Mike _told you_ anything?" He asks.

"No. He wouldn't tell me a thing. No matter how many times I asked." She says, irritably, folding her arms. "What _exactly_ is going on?" She repeats the question. "You're _obviously_ not at work." She observes, pointing to his attire. "So what is it?"

" _Yesterday_...Donna was...in an accident." He says, keeping it fact light, for his own piece of mind more than anything else.

He watches her face change like the flick of a wrist, from pensive and reticent to a look of complete shock. She gasps, before striding to him, her hands contacting with his chest. "I'm so sorry...is she okay?" She asks, concern on her face.

"She's...stable but... _not good_." He says, holding his emotion off with his last shred of self control.

Her hands slide to his arms, pulling him down for a hug. "I'm so sorry. I know you care about her." She says, her head folding to the side against the peak of his chest.

He feels himself almost break, as a tear runs down his face and his hands slide around her. "I... ** _I caused it_** , Paula." He manages.

She leans back, looking at him with confusion. "What?" She frowns. "What do you mean you 'caused it'?" She asks, her hands finding his face.

"We were… _fighting_...about _Us_...and...she didn't look before she crossed the street to get away from me…and she just..."

"Oh god. That's...awful." She says, taken aback, before a thought occurs all too quickly. "But, Harvey...I know you have this perpetual urge to blame yourself, but this doesn't...sound...like _your_ fault." She says, smoothing a hand up and down his back. "She _clearly_ wasn't thinking straight if she walked out onto traffic."

He pulls away then. There it is _again_... _that harsh grain_...that edge to her voice whenever she mentions Donna in conversation.

She's done it ever since he told her about the kiss. _Maybe even before that._

" _Paula_...she's lying in a bed with a broken leg, a snapped pelvis and swelling on the brain." He warns, his voice teetering on that dark edge he's so famous for.

" _I understand that_ , Harvey." She says, her tone disarming. "And I know you want to protect her...but...it's just... _not_ your job anymore."

"Paula... _we're family_." He says, his face bending with sentiment. "You don't leave family."

" _ **I know that**_." She says, nodding. "But I'm...your girlfriend...and you've spent a day avoiding me, instead of coming to me for support." She explains. "I could have been there for you."

"I had another panic attack." He blurts out, the words running out of him now. He's gotten used to it. To the routine of sharing with her.

"What?" She says, blinking several times.

"When I watched her get hit and _thrown across the street_ , outside my firm, I...lost my shit... _again_." He admits. "I passed out for half an hour."

"Harvey…" She sighs, regarding the conflicted look on his face. "Watching someone get into an accident is traumatic for even the most casual of bystanders. _It's natural._ You were probably in shock." She reasons, smoothing his sides. "I think you've taken this all on yourself, when you don't need to." She assures him.

His eyes harden then, despite her caring tone. "Paula. I _need_ to be there." He tells her staunchly.

"Okay..then...we'll _go_...and...sit there, with her." She offers, her fingers reaching as if to take his hand in hers. "If that's what you want."

He frowns. _She's so good at making him feel comfortable and safe and normal that he forgets himself._ Forgets all that he came to say to her.

"You can't be there." He says, deftly. "I'm sorry."

"Why not?" She asks boldly, stepping back from him then.

"Paula...I know you don't... _agree_ with my place in Donna's life. But I _ **need**_ to be there for her. And I need to...do it... _alone_."

She squints, disbelief charging her features.

"So...I'm just supposed to stand by, _happy as larry_ , whilst you sit, like some dutiful husband at the bedside of a woman who _kissed you_ whilst knowing you were in a relationship?" She fires the words expertly. _Every word charting a meaning for him to pick up on._

"I got her into this mess, Paula. I _**need**_ to be there for her." He states. " _That's all_."

"And _for how long_ , Harvey?" She asks, her tone verging on condescending. "Until she... _wakes up_? Until she's _better_?" She adds, sarcasm lacing her words as her volume rises. "Until she's back at work with you, so that you can both continue whatever _co-dependant relationship you keep inside these walls_?"

 _It's a low blow. It's not inaccurate, but it's a low blow all the same..._

"Paula...I know that you're angry at me right now. _I know_ I didn't call when I should have...but you knew _all about_ Donna...when you agreed to date me."

"Well... **maybe I didn't know _enough_**." She says, her mouth pinching with a held anger as she withdraws, walking past him.

"Paula," He half-protests, his brow furrowing as he watches her retreating form disappears around the corner.

 _Right now, he doesn't have it in him to fight for two women..._

And for the first time since Donna kissed him,

He's actually putting _her_ **first**.

He has to.

Because he'll hate himself if he loses her forever.

. .


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Notes:_

Thankyou so much for the reviews! Sorry for the delay, super swamped with all these updates. I have four fics on the go. Please bare with me!

* * *

 **.**

 **Chapter 4:**

 _ **You broke down my walls**  
 **And I let you in**  
 **Searching my soul**  
 **To still believe, to still believe in me**_

 _' **False** ' By Tusk_

.

* * *

When Harvey returns to the Hospital, he notices Mike looking pensive, as he sits in the waiting room. Harvey frowns instantly, drawing in a breath just to calm his bones.

"Mike...why are you out _here_?" He asks, glancing towards Donna's room.

Mike sits up, seemingly out of sorts, until he regards Harvey.

" _She's fine_ ," Mike says hastily, preempting the man.

Harvey sighs in a puff. _It soothes him, his friend's sudden reactiveness._ "What is it?" He asks then, sensing a 'but'.

Mike's eyes float to the door.

" _Donna has a_ -"

" _ **Harvey**_ ,"

"… _..visitor_ ," Mike manages, just _a beat too late._

Harvey's head shoots to the doorway, holding his breath as he witnesses _James Paulsen_ staring at right him. The same old glasses, and the slightly jaded, backfoot stare, a reminder of the last time Harvey cleaned up his mess and saved his worthless ass.

 _He isn't sure he has it in him to deal with this man today. He's a little low on fucks to give unless they're directed squarely at Donna..._

He stills his mind then, reminding himself of the unhelpful fact, that goes against all he knows, and all that his reliable conscience tells him: **_The man_ _is still_ _Donna's Father._**

"Jim," He says, his voice level as he walks towards the shorter man. He notices his blue checked shirt, and a thoroughly _shitty_ tie. _Same as always..._

 _If roles were reversed, and it had been Donna, staring at a man that was meant to be Harvey's father, she would have described him as the 'Willy Loman' type._

 _A door-to-door man, caught between his failures and his flight of grandeur._

"Harvey, _what happened to my daughter_?" He asks pointedly. "Rachel said something about _an 'accident'?_ " He presses, his large hazel eyes scrutinising Harvey.

 _ **Green... Orange... Red...**_

 _ **The Sidewalk.**_

 _ **Her Face.**_

 _ **His Beating Heart...**_

 _It puts him on edge immediately._ He's not ready for it. And it's so unlike him, this broken hesitation that seems to follow him. His head turns to the hospital room, his face frowning deeply.

"'You leave her alone in there?" He asks, a touch sharper than his thought can carry as he points to the door, deflecting the man's question in favour of his own interests.

" _Excuse me_?" James frowns, seeming confused at his words.

"She...she shouldn't be left alone. I... _Mike was meant to be_..." Harvey manages, half mumbling as he strides towards the door. He feels his chest tighten for every single step, his heartbeat quicken until he pushes the door open to reveal her, identical to when he'd left earlier. He sighs heavily, relief washing over him as he walks over to her bed, lingering over her right side.

"What _exactly happened,_ Harvey?" Donna's father asks, following him through the door.

" _We_ umm…. _she_ -" He stumbles on the words, his mouth suddenly stuck with the feeling of glue and oatmeal as he looks to Donna.

 _For once she's not there to catch his ass…_

 _He's not felt this unnecessarily helpless, since the last time she left him..._

"She was crossing the street corner for lunch and...this truck just...it didn't see her. _Harvey and I_...we saw it happen. We ran to her. _Called 911_. It was...terrible." Mike interrupts, a fluid stream of carefully placed bullshit hitting the air with the hint of truth as he stands casually at the end of the bed.

Every word deflecting Harvey's continued inability to recount the events that only he fully witnessed.

Harvey swallows thickly, half in shock at Mike's quick thinking and half struggling with the look that Donna's father passes between _his own_ frozen stance and Donna's unnaturally muted presence.

He blinks several times, looking to Donna again. _He wants to take her hand in his. But he's not about to give her Father any ammo..._

James Paulsen steps towards the bed, his eyes glassier than his thickish frames. He takes Donna's left hand freely. Harvey finds an immediate irritation at the action. He douses the feeling, looking to the older man as he sits where _he_ had woken up, earlier that morning.

 _He knows it's stupid_. He just doesn't like him. He doesn't trust the man _at all_...with a deal, or Donna, or anything for that matter.

He didn't trust the man with Donna's life when she was at her _best_. At her _worst_ , in Harvey's mind, he really doesn't stand a chance.

"Has she woken up at all?" He asks.

"She won't. Not for a day or two." Harvey states. "The respirator is keeping her stable. Or so they tell us." He explains.

"Have you been here?"

Harvey gives the man a look of irritation at his words.

 _He'd have thought that after all this time, James Paulsen would have picked up on the simple fact that A) Harvey would always be there for Donna. And B) She wasn't alone. In fact, she was loved, and cared for by the people most dear to her._

"Yes. We _all_ have." Mike answers, covering the silence once more.

" _I've gotta say_ ….I'm surprised you had the time to be away from the firm this long." James says, eyeing Harvey.

" _Excuse me_?" Harvey says, his face sharpening at the man's asinine remark.

"Donna means a lot to _all_ of us." Mike explains, trying to deflect.

Harvey feels Mike's gaze on him then. " **She's family** ," Harvey manages, his gaze razor edged and piercing as he squares a look at Donna's father.

The man is smart enough at least to sense the shift in the room, as he looks evenly between the two of them. "Well...I'm glad she has people that care about her, in the city." He says, looking to Donna for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss her temple, the part not obscured with bandages. "I'm going to get a hotel." He states. "I'll be back tonight. Please... _call_ if anything happens?" He says, looking to Harvey and then Mike.

Harvey narrows his eyes, another bout of frustration claiming him, as he feels his temper rise and his hands ball into fists, sucking in a breath.

" _ **We will**_." Mike interrupts, cordially, trying to disarm Harvey's noticeable posture shift.

Harvey's shoulders hunch then, his eyeline rising to a dangerous degree.

"You've been here all of _five minutes_ , and you think that's **all** she deserves?" Harvey snaps, almost spitting the words at the older man.

James blinks several times, looking directly back at Harvey. "Harvey... _I don't know what your problem is with me_ , but-"

"My Problem?! _My problem **is**_ that you arrive an _**entire day after**_ Donna's been in a serious accident...and you're here, what? _Half an hour_ before you have to leave again?"

They pause as a head and some shoulders glide past the window of the hospital room. _A nurse looking in on the commotion with a shrewd eye for a possibly rising altercation._ They all relax forcibly, their postures becoming micro-managed and covering any sign of noticeable conflict before a stranger can intervene further.

"I'm going to get a hotel, Harvey. _Unlike you_ , _I_ don't have the advantage of living in the city." He says then, his tone brusk and aged.

" _I don't give a shit where you live_! You could live in Wisconsin for all I care. _Your daughter_ is lying sick and unconscious in a hospital bed _**without** her Father or Mother_ _here._ If you really care so much for her, you'll get here as quick as you can without a second thought, instead of wasting time."

James Paulsen steps back, disbelief charting his worn in features.

"The great Harvey Specter... **always 'high and mighty'**..." He regards, his comment just off of snide. " _I'll have you know_...I just flew _nine_ hours, off of the back of a business trip, to see my daughter as quickly as I am able, _at my age_."

" _Still_ _chasing the dream, huh Jim?_ " He counters, letting the words cut like a knife.

He watches the older man's face draw pale, that look of anger ridden shock that flashes, something of his own daughter's expressions, as his lips take the brunt of Harvey's comment, tightening into a straight and almost painful line.

"Harvey, I know you're worried about my Donna. And I know that you care about her. That's why you're here." He says in a hushed tone, taking a step towards the bed and Harvey. "But don't you EVER question my commitment to my family, _OR_ _my daughter_." He fires at him.

"Better go get that hotel, Jim..." Harvey says, his voice low, with condescension dripping from his words as he stays his ground.

Mike looks on in held panic at two men teetering on the finest, splintering edge of niceties as the woman they have in mind holds them apart with her mere presence.

 _Donna Paulsen, acting in people's interests...even in her shortcomings._

Harvey watches, finally, as James Paulsen retreats slowly towards the door. He stays his grown, his gaze following the man until he disappears behind the white door. The door rocks on it's hinges, charting the exit of one James Paulsen.

He sighs then, shaking his head, before he looks to Mike. He knows by his expression alone that he's going to get a firm lecture in about four seconds. He groans at the mere thought of such a thing, slumping into a seat just to avoid his friend's eye line.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Mike asks, wandering over to a chair lying against the edge of the wall, lifting it and pulling it over to meet Harvey's. He places the chair down next to his friend.

"Mike…" He objects weakly, sighing as his eyes focus on Donna. As m _ore for a distraction than for anything else._

"Harvey... _I shouldn't have to tell you this_...but you're _not_ her boyfriend."

He whips around to his friend's gaze, narrowing his eyes. "You think I don't know that?" He bites the words.

"Well, when you go off at her Father like that, I _do_ wonder." He remarks, his tone suggestive in the worst way.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harvey counters harshly.

" _Distancing yourself from Paula_...not leaving the hospital. Neglecting work." He points out. "You were fighting with Donna _right before_ she got hit." He states. " _Now_ , I know that you feel guilty, like you caused her to...have a lapse in concentration, like you're in charge of fate _but_...I feel like I'm missing something, here."

Mike Ross is more than just smarts and an eidetic memory.

 _It seems that having a best friend like Mike Ross, means you can't hide from a damned thing..._

"I nearly lost her, Mike." He tells him, his voice cracking slightly. "..I could... _still_...lose her." He says, his voice lost in a sea of his own thoughts.

"So...do you not think that that might... _mean_ _more_ than what you're giving her? More than the word's that you've already said?" He encourages.

" _You want to know if I love her_ ," He assumes, reluctantly, his face contorting as his eyes flick to the shitty square ceiling tiles he's come to know.

 _It's as if, lately, everybody is asking him this question...or at least insinuating it._

"No... _I know_ that you love her. I'm just... _wondering when you're gonna_ _ **do something about it**_." Mike says, tenderly.

" _ **Like what, exactly**_ ," He replies sarcastically, huffing at his friend's ridiculous words as his hand teeters a fraction of an inch away from Donna's. He hears the sound of her heartbeat quicken by the smallest amount, the space between the beeps getting shorter. He frowns, wishing she were awake enough to set his mind at rest.

 _She always did know how to ease his frayed nerve..._

" _Like_...toss out your pride and your fear of rejection and just...tell her you want to be with her?" Mike offers, his words layered with meaning, even in their careful execution.

Harvey's eyes shoot up to his friend, defensive and fire ridden in an overreaction. But as his gaze percolates against Mike's cool and slightly soulful blues, he finds the echo of a stillness. A calm kind of surrender in the young man's words that speaks of a truth that he can no longer run from.

He looks away then...looking back at his hand, now wrapped protectively around Donna's, carefully avoiding her cannula.

"I thought she would never. After her rule...I never thought it was…"

"Possible?"

" _We work together, Mike_."

"So do Rachel and I." He adds. "That's not it, and you know it."

He nods, looking back to Donna. "She told me she wanted 'more'." He says then, his head bowing slightly.

"What kind of more?" Mike asks, interest framing his youthful face.

"She didn't know." He sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I asked her but...she said she'd have to... _figure that out_. After taking the buy-out."

" _And then you dated Paula_." Mike nods, _understanding then_. _More than he has in weeks. Months, even._

Paula Agard. The Ex-Therapist. The Girlfriend. _The Unnecessary Obstacle._

Where once there was only clarity, now all he can see are the many greys upon greys upon greys. _And not the moral kind that he is used to playing with._

" **I think I made a mistake**." Harvey says.

For a second, Mike frowns, his brain not quite processing his Partner's quiet words.

"With what?" He asks.

"Dating Paula." He says, sighing in the resounding truth of the words. "I like her. I do...and I care about her...a lot...I just...she's,"

" _Not_ Donna?" Mike offers.

Harvey laughs to himself, something small and potent and laced with bittersweetness.

 _Donna. A name and a title in one._

"What if she doesn't... _wake up, Mike_?" He asks his friend, staring at the bits of her face that he can still see. The freckles and red hair, that is still her, and the side of her face that didn't take the hit.

It's a rare comet of a moment, where Harvey is open and unsure and scared for the person that he loves the most in the world.

"She's Donna. _She will_." Mike answers, looking to his friend.

.

* * *

.

Mike Ross is worried about his best friend.

He's worried about his dear friend, also.

It seems that whilst one goes through a trauma, so it seems, does the other.

Harvey needs to take care of himself. Take care of his responsibilities. But right now, he's avoiding his life, just to be by the side of the one woman who has unknowingly buried her way into the older lawyer's heart.

 _And it's different somehow._ For as much as she holds on, so in return, does Harvey. There is something so juvenile and pure and awkwardly chaste about the two of them. _Like they knew each other as children in some parallel life_ , _and held onto their notions of 'a happy ever after' long after happiness turned sour and 'ever' became a ticking time bomb_. Life, had tainted and tarnished them enough over the years, into believing that it wasn't possible to have that kind of happiness. That their goals were too high, or that there was some _hidden flaw_ or something missing from them. _And so_ , instead of rushing into a sea of their feeling for one another, that threatened to engulf them both at it's highest point, they continued to paddle lightly, sharing the space with others that never quite match up, until they could no longer cope with the imbalance, and then throwing it all on its head, they start all over again, a circle of unending.

He had encouraged Harvey to go home tonight. To sleep a full night - _with Louis agreeing to keep Jim Paulsen company_ \- and then return to her in the morning.

It seems like the most frustrating of waiting games.

 _Bringing two people together,_

 _Who are held so far apart._

.

* * *

.

Harvey can't sleep.

His body is tired, but his mind is stubborn to a fault.

He turns over in bed, the grey toned light streaming in through the large windows of his bedroom. There's a full moon out. He doesn't believe in magic or superstition, but there is something uneasy about the moon tonight. Like it has purpose, more than just hanging up there in the sky like a lightbulb. He could pull the blinds down, black out the night, but he enjoys the easy wake of day and the culpable morning.

He sits up in bed, as his hand reaches to the little white bottle on his bedside table. He pops the flimsy cap and empties out two oval pills. He returns the cap to the bottle, pawing for the glass of near empty scotch by his bed, and downs the pills and the _not-so-doctor-recommended but wholly self-subscribed_ alcohol in one.

 _He'd already been for a run since getting in. It seems he couldn't run himself out of the need to disconnect from the situation. From Donna. From the possibility of her needing him..._

But right now, in welcoming the comforts of a mattress and silence, he just needs to sleep for a little while. _To exhaust his mind enough to recharge his body._ Then, he'll be able to be better, to stay longer. _For her._

He also can't help the realisation that he had been _all too willing to dodge James Paulsen_ tonight.

He honestly didn't want to get into yet another fight. And as angry as he had been at the man when he had arrived earlier... _at least he had returned to support his daughter. To make up for the delay._

 _He feels some remorse for snapping at the man. Just a little bit...but enough to realise something huge in his life. Like a light being switched onto a room containing a little piece of the missing puzzle:_

 _When it comes to Donna...Harvey Specter doesn't always see straight._

 _He sees either White or Red. No right. No wrong. No moral course. No logical line of thought. Just colours and impulses and layered feeling that lash and sear and soak him._

Fourteen, nearly fifteen years and he's only just realised the fact. _That, and the vague recollection of Mike insinuating it somewhere in his recent past._

And _that understanding,_ of his nature in regards to her, and only her, is what's keeping him awake tonight.

It makes him look at their past fights somewhat differently, too. At the times when ' _almosts'_ and ' _avoided maybe's'_ collided with the corners of arguments that they never seemed to be able to find a level footing for.

 _Stephen._

 _Scottie._

 _Mark Meadows._

 _Travis Tanner._

 _Louis._

 _Paula._

 _Maybe **he** **had** been jealous. Maybe **he** **hadn't** liked to share her, like she had once prophesized. Maybe **he liked** her in every corner of his day, and **he** **didn't like it** when she was on her own and away from him. Maybe **he** **didn't like** her dating. Maybe **he didn't** **like** her having anniversaries that weren't entirely theirs. Maybe **he** **loved** the shitty thai place, because **he just loved** to make her happy and **he** **loved** the look on her face when she was. Maybe how **he loved her** , was so terrifying in it's depth to admit, not only to himself but out into an unknown. Maybe **he wanted her** to tell it to him straight to just to ease the shrivelled walnut of doubt in his heart. Maybe **he had expected both** , when she agreed to come with him. _

_Maybe... **he was in love with her**._

 _~I'm hearing voices_

 _All because of you_

 _I'm seeing red_

 _So in love with you_

 _I'm feeling lost, as we move, a little bit deeper, a little bit deeper_

 _Making sense of you as we move, a little bit deeper, a little bit deeper_

 _You won't ever see, you won't ever turn around_

 _Forever you'll be, just another_

 _You won't ever see, you won't ever turn around_

 _Forever you'll be, just another~_

He hears his phone buzz, as his eyes flick to the blue light of his cell illuminating the contents of his nightstand. He reaches, noticing the caller ID, and his breath catches, as he accepts the call, sitting upright in bed.

"Louis, what is it?" He asks, his voice thick with sleep as he rubs at his forehead.

" _ **She's awake**_." He hears the man's rushed voice on the phone.

 _...Donna..._

* * *

 ** _._**

 ** _Promise there'll be a bigger chapter next time!_**

 _Song featured: 'Save Me' By Magic._


	5. Chapter 5

Author Notes:

Apologies for the delay. Am currently working on _this_ , 'Donna', 'The New World Order', _Seven ending_ and _A Prompt fic_! Bit busy so taking a weee bit.

Note: Did my best to go through the motions with the hospital side of things, but sorry if it took a while! Patients can be in the ICU up to around 5 days for this type of thing, just for reference

 _A__

 _._

* * *

Chapter 5

.

 _Donna_

Her eyes open in a rush as she gasps, the cloudiness of sound hitting like a wall, the effort flattening against the feeling of her mouth and throat being somehow full. For a moment her gaze is suspended, as two slightly blurry faces descend over her with their features in a muddle. Her chest lurches, and the need to wretch coughs out of her at the sheer discomfort. She hears words being shouted, and then footsteps flowing in and around her. Her eyes focus, one of the faces reappearing with a frown before moving out of the way. She's too slow to catch the other as more faces appear, and people's voices start to merge. She feels trapped, and heavy, in her face and in her hips, unable to move under a pressure that seems to weigh down on her body. Her left leg feels like it has a huge weight on it too, like someone is sitting on it **and her** in the process. She feels her heart start to race then, as a familiar image looks over and at her.

"Donna... _Donna_ , sweetheart? It's _your Dad_. You're in the hospital." She hears, as the rough image of her father, his weathered face shaping itself in gradual detail, looks down at her. She tries to frown. _He looks worried_ , she thinks, as her mouth attempts to shape around the obstruction, trying to offer him immediate words of comfort. She coughs sharply, a pain ripping through her throat that tastes like blood and feels like fire and gravel, as she frowns fully. It's then that she feels the ache in her head, and the sharp pain in her elbow, as her fingers heat at the touch of someone's hand.

"Sweetheart, _just relax_. You have a breathing tube in your throat. Try not to fight it, okay?" He asks her.

She feels his soft, older hand holding hers, his skin like tissue paper and cool to the touch. She's confused, befuddled at her limited view and restricted movement and realises that she has absolutely no idea how she even got here in the first place.

 _She doesn't remember a thing_. And worse than that, she doesn't know _**why**_ she doesn't remember.

The idea of such a thing terrifies her. _She's Donna._ She knows everything. How is it possible that she's forgotten? _Did she...hit her head somehow?_

Her eyes flick to the side, as a nurse comes into view, one with an aged face but kind looking eyes. She hears the woman talk about a ventilator _that won't be coming out 'for an hour or two'_ , until they can make sure she's able to breathe by herself. It's then that she notices something firm holding her neck in place, making it almost impossible not to look up.

She blinks, unable to nod much, and closes her eyes for a moment. But the action only amplifies the feeling of the plastic in her throat, intensifying that sear and the throbbing ache in her body. She opens her eyes, tears streaming down along each cheek as she looks about the room for more clues.

 _She feels trapped inside herself._ She's never not had the ability to communicate before. It's a terrifying restriction on her life.

She hears beeping then, a faster pace as she looks about the room, wondering where it is coming from. She feels a pinch on her left finger, and a dimple returns to the space between her brows. The beeping is _her_. The ingrained need to speak flashes in her mind, but she's not strong enough to catch it as the pipe scrapes across her throat once more. Her mouth bends around the tube, her jaw tightening in another cough.

She can't move and it's driving her crazy, as her heart starts to thud in her ears to match the beeping sound. She wants out of this situation and out of this entire ordeal. She hears her father's voice, and Louis's even though she can't see either of them, until the nurse's voice overtakes them, muttering something about 'upping the dose'.

She scans the room once more, in panic now, another tear rolling down one side of a cheek that feels like it's missing suddenly, finding no one looking back at her in a way that starts to distress her, until a wave of deadening sleep falls over her, and she slides backwards off of the image of her father looking worriedly down at her.

.

* * *

 _Light reflects from your shadow_  
 _It is more than I thought could exist_  
 _You move through the room_  
 _Like breathing was easy_  
 _If someone believed me_

 _They would be_  
 _As in love with you as I am_  
 _They would be_  
 _As in love with you as I am_  
 _They would be_  
 _As in love with you as I am_  
 _They would be_  
 _In love, love, love_

 _'Angels' Cover By Lou Rhodes (Original by XX)_

* * *

.

 _Harvey._

 _The cab had taken forever and a day to push through the city traffic_ , even though Mount Sinai was only just across the other side of the park.

He marches to the ICU, barely containing his manners enough to let an old lady into the elevator beside him. When the metal doors open at the right floor he almost leaps out of the elevator, striding to a department that he's _already_ starting to recognise.

He walks past the reception, not bothering to acknowledge the nurses at this moment as he pushes through the doors.

He stops, frowning deeply.

"I thought you said she'd woken up?" He frowns, meeting the eyes of the two men in the room. They are both sat along one side, their faces tired and expressionless.

Louis stands, walking towards him. " _She did_ ," He says, his face reading an immediate complication. "But she was disorientated...and then she started to panic, _in a very un-Donna like way_ , so they upped her meds to calm her down."

Harvey sighs, rolling his eyes in frustration. He had been waiting for this moment, for what feels like an eternity, only to have it be snatched away from him without him even being present. Despite his annoyance, there is at least some comfort. She's waking up. She's not in a coma. Maybe she's going to be okay, after all.

He wanders over to the chair to her left, and sits down, his hand sliding protectively into hers.

His eyes examine her. She looks the same, much to his disappointment, as he draws a long slow breath.

 _It's going to be a long night..._

.

* * *

.

All three men sit in a palpable silence for two hours, until one of them finally decides to speak up and break the tangible cavern of everyday noise.

"I'm going to go back to my hotel, to get some sleep." James says, standing up, before squeezing his daughter's hand and muttering something about seeing her soon.

"I second that. I have meetings tomorrow, and someone needs to be at the firm." Louis states.

Harvey's eyes flick up to Louis's, judging his words against his expression. But, for once there's no insinuation there. _No edge. No tone_. Just a blanket statement and a pensive gaze. Harvey nods to his Partner, watching as he wanders out of the room.

 _And then there were two..._

"Maybe you should get some rest, too, Harvey?" James manages, his voice bending at an angle.

Harvey draws a breath, trying to disarm the irritation at such a ridiculous proposal. "I'm staying until she wakes up again." He says, looking at Donna's seemingly slightly more relaxed face. " _You go_." He manages, as evenly as he is able.

"The nurse's said that she won't wake up until morning, with what they've sedated her with." James explains, his face gracing the lines of trouble.

Harvey's eyes darken, as they flick to the man's hazel ones. "I said i'm staying," He answers, his voice just barely audible.

He notices James Paulsen nod his head in the frame of his periphery.

"Harvey?"

He looks to the man then, sensing something different in the man's voice.

"I _am_ grateful...that you two have each other." He says.

Harvey feels a layer of tension strip away, as he examines the honesty written all over the older man's face.

 _He told her once that he'd never let anything happen to her..._

"Me too." He responds. "I'll... _call_...if she wakes up before," He offers.

"I'd appreciate that." James says, before wandering out of the room.

He looks back to Donna, feeling, odd. Feeling like he's just been through a first.

 _The first of what, he's not entirely sure._

 _._

* * *

 _._

 **Donna Paulsen reawakens at eight oh two, exactly.**

The light is streaming in the room, making this time is very different from last. She hears sound before she sees things, beeping and footsteps and a strong warmth around her left hand.

"Donna? Donna?"

Her stomach lurches slightly at that distinct sound that she knows so well. That rich velvety tone that is so innately Harvey that she could pick it out of a complete wall of sound. Her eyes open fully, and for a moment she sees blue and white tiles above her, before her head tilts, and once again bringing in the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of a mouth full of tube, a clip around her nose, and heavy eyelids caked in sleep.

"Donna... _just relax_ …" She hears Harvey say, before his face hovers over her. She feels the need to move away, further into her pillow as he's suddenly closer and more strangely positioned than he's been in over a decade a half. She blinks several times, her eyes focusing on the way his dark eyes seem to look almost _into_ her. Her own eyes scan over his face, examining the tiredness and the taunt cheekbones of a worn in stare on his tanned skin.

She feels the impulse to speak, until her memories catch up with her, and she remembers coughing and soreness, to match the harsh feeling in her throat. _A reminder of already being in this position once before, and not a welcome position at that._

She squeezes his hand, hoping that he'll understand, before hearing the slightly elevated beep relax to a slower tempo.

" _Good girl_ ," She hears him whisper, a sense of relief on his face, that levels out with a thought. "I'm gonna call your Dad...but I'm gonna be _right here_? So you just squeeze my hand if you feel like you did before, okay?" He asks her. She squeezes his hand again, as he smirks, before the view of him disappears.

She mentally checks herself.

 _She's in hospital._ She can't move or breath herself or talk, and she can't remember why she's even here, but Harvey is with her. And he's calling her Dad, which means that everybody must know she's here. She vaguely recollects Louis being there to, but she can't hear him now, which means he must be at the firm or at home.

She hears Harvey's voice pull into focus. "Jim... _hey_...she's awake. She's... _calmer_...you should...okay. Bye." He says, his voice stripped of any annoyance that she'd usual preempt in his voice when having to converse simply with her Father. She strains to detect a hint of an insinuation, as if she's missed it somehow. But no, _nothing_ , not so much as a stretch of indignation across his vocal chords. Just a simple statement, and a level reply.

She observes Harvey look over her once more. "Donna...I need to go find someone, so they can help you out with this tube, okay?" He tells her. "I'll be _right_ back."

She finds herself blinking, and her grip on his hand loosening in understanding. He appears to stand upright, as she hears footsteps fall away into the background.

She twitches her right leg, feeling a heaviness in her left one again, both feeling like they meet at a vice around her hips She frowns in pain as she moves her right elbow.

 _Are they even giving her pain meds or are they just knocking her out?_

She's already tired of this, and yet at the same time, tiring of the mere thought of being tired. She notices a nurse glance at her from her right shoulder, looking to her with a kind smile.

"Hi there Donna, my name is Maxine," She explains. "We're going to have another go at turning down your meds, and see if we can't remove that tube, once we're sure you can breathe by yourself for a little while. Now, i'm going to need you to relax as much as you can, okay? You may feel some more pain than you're currently feeling, so try not to panic. I know it's uncomfortable but just take your time." The nurse warns.

She feels Harvey's hand slide into hers again, just as confident as before. The gesture is fluid, like he's had an unusual amount of practise in the gesture. She feels herself frown again.

"She gets it," He tells the nurse. She can hear an acute smile in his voice.

 _How long has she been here?_

She squeezes Harvey's hand, concentrating on anything but the feeling of the obstructive tube taking up space in her throat, as it hangs slightly, taped awkwardly to her face as the nurse touches it for a moment.

She hears a light chuckle, "Okaaaaaay… only just awake and already you're using alternative communication. _Impressive_." The woman says

"She's a smart one," She hears Harvey say. "And a smartass, too." He adds.

Both the nurse and Harvey chuckle at her when she rolls her eyes.

 _If she physically had it in her she'd crush his hand just to make a point._

Her heart skips a beat, when she feels his thumb brush lazily over the top of her hand. It's new between them, this closeness. She wonders if Harvey was there, or not, when whatever accident had happened. Harvey was unnaturally against touching her, and had been for along time. Her mind starts to reel at everything she's missed, at everything that has passed and exactly what has suddenly changed for him between then and now..

She finds herself falling in and out of her own thoughts as she closes her eyes periodically, Harvey checking that she's okay in sporadic intervals. She falls asleep for an unmeasured amount of time, until she drifts back into the room, voices fighting one another for pitch as her eyes open up into a blurry view of a mane of dark hair and kind looking eyes.

"Donna," Says the voice, as she makes out Rachel's distinct pixie nose and gentle frown. "It's me, Rachel... _hey_ ," She says, smoothing Donna's right hand as her face relaxes into a warm smile. "Your Dad is here. And Mike. And Harvey. We're all glad you're awake."

She blinks, feeling the same as she did before. She wonders when she'll get this tube out of her mouth.

"I think the nurse is going to come and get this nasty tube out of your throat." She explains, smoothing her hand, before Donna watches her face turn out to what she assumes is the doorway.

Footsteps approach the bed, two people, one wearing a lab coat.

"Hi there Donna, I'm Doctor Andrews. We're going to see if we can get you extubated now. Now, you might feel a little discomfort, or the feeling of a scratch, so just remember to relax as much as you can, as we remove the tube. First we're going to deflate the ring that's holding it in your throat, and then we'll work on removing it, okay?"

She blinks several times, wondering if the response will give the desired effect.

She hears the Doctor and nurse pass order's between the two, as they give her every stage of the procedure. Most of it goes over her head, her thoughts firmly focused on an end game. When they pull the tube she feels her stomach lurch and her body jolt in pain, her chest heaving at the smallest part of the tube dragging along the back of her throat. In a flash she's coughing and wheezing slightly at the action, the tube in her nose also discarded as the tape is peeled off of her face.

"Just breath, Donna." The Doctor orders, watching for signs of her reactive breath.

She frowns, closing her eyes just to relax a little more, as she drags a jagged breath into her lungs. Her mouth immediately feels twice it's size now, as she looks about the room without the various obstructions on her face.

"Donna, sweetie." Her Father calls, as she sees his face come into view, standing alongside Rachel.

"Heeey...Dad…" She manages hoarsely, looking at them both as Rachel's hand slides across her hair.

It's almost as if every effort to speak pulls the wind right out of her, as she adjusts, her cracked lips rubbing together. "I'm...tired." She says, blinking a few times.

"Go to sleep. We're all here if you need anything." Rachel insists, her eyes warm with comfort.

"H….Har.." She manages, the permission acting like a strange nullifier to her impulses, her eyes searching the space around her for the familiar face.

A hand finds her left one instantly, squeezing it.

" _Donna_ …"

She sees Harvey glance at her, his face commanding. "Get some rest. We'll be right here." He insists.

She struggles to nod, as her eyes contact his.

She'd never admit it,

 _But she's instantly calmed by his presence._

.

* * *

.

She begins to drift, like flotsam at sea, in and out of consciousness. In the afternoon, she's transferred to a general ward, as the Doctor's mark her as 'out of the woods'. The Doctors tell her that it's to be expected, with the injuries that she has sustained, for her to feel tired, and drift throughout the day. That it may take a few days of rest before she's able to remain conscious. The tube is out, but now the healing has begun. She's not able to move, the pain hitting like a wall. She has her meds upped and is told to relax even _more_. She's been horizontal for days, so she wonders if it's really possible to relax further, the word starting to grate on her, but an assortment of pins and plates and fixings holding her broken pelvis and left hip together with a prominence remind her of such a request.

She drifts out of the third day, and wakes up early to the fourth, her mouth feeling dank and her cloudy eyes scouting the room as oranges and sky blues streak through the ward. It paints the boring ceiling tile a myriad of interesting colours and hues, offsetting her boredom slightly.

" _Morning sleepyhead_ ," She hears Harvey's voice, peeling with sleep as the vowels in his last word stretch with a yawn, followed by a muffled groan of something akin to a stretch.

She waits, his head popping over her left shoulder to observe her as their eyes meet.

"Did you stay all night?" She asks, smelling his morning breath as it puffs against her own.

"Yeah...I uh...everyone else is holding the fort for us." He says, looking about his space for a discarded coffee.

"What about your clients?" She mumbles, relaxing slightly at his remaining presence.

" _Being looked after by Mike and Louis_. As far as everyone knows...Harvey Specter is taking a vacation." He tells her.

"Harvey," She manages, the ghost of a whisper causing any scold in her remark to fall flat.

" _Donna_ ," He protests, that sound he makes just for her.

" _Some vacation_." She chuckles, wincing at the action and immediately regretting it as her abs lurch a touch too close to her hips.

" _Oh, it's not so bad_. It's my first official one. _Sure_ , the coffee is crappy, but the views are pretty good." He says. "You see that sky?" He infers, as she watches his hand point above her and to the window.

"I'm not blind." She remarks grumpily, causing him to chuckle.

With that, footsteps wander into the room.

"Good Morning, Donna, I see you're up bright and early this morning?"

"Mmmhmm," She hums, watching a woman's face come into view. She's young, with a pixie nose and bright eyes. "We're gonna see if we can't get you sat up a little more today…"

"Well, I could sure use more of that sunrise." She quips, her attention suddenly focusing on the discomfort that she's trying to ignore.

"Let's see if we can't do something about that?" The Nurse offers, as one more appears beside her.

She frowns, the pressure building in her lower stomach, as both nurses allow her to brace her weight, her hands contacting their forearms, as they help lift her, adjusting her pillows in the process.

She watches the world turn an uncomfortable ninety degrees, as she is placed against the mountain of pillows that suddenly appear behind her in a stack. She swallows, releasing a breath at the slight pain in her pelvis, as one nurse lingers to fuss over her chart and meds. She feels her hips protest immediately, the cast on her feeling at an odd angle.

She slowly looks around, observing that she is still hooked up to a few things things, monitors, a drip and her rather attractive catheter, that is still present and accounted for, much to her severe dislike. She's just glad she doesn't had a colostomy bag, too.

Her eyes flick to Harvey, who moves from standing at the edge of her bed, a hand absentmindedly tapping her blanket, before he walks towards her, sitting in his usual position to her left. Her features suspend on an expression of intrigue at the man beside her. He's not in a suit, instead dressed down in a pair of dark jeans and a slate grey sweater with a white t-shirt showing. His hair is stuck up, and not gelled, like it almost always is. He looks like a Lion, taken out of the Serengeti. Out of place but still majestic in all his glory.

Her eyes focus once more on the lack of usual attire.

 _Has he not been in suit this entire time? Has he not been at work this entire time?_

She watches as he leans forward.

"Well... _here's looking at you, kid_ ," He plays, smirking as her sudden focus on him.

She smiles back, the ghost of the reference sliding about in her head as she regards his condition over her own. He's tired, with engraved lines peppered about his tanned face, like he's not slept in about a week. But he seems...calm, _strangely so_. The two don't usually go together, and she lingers on the thought as he begins to frown at her, the frown quickly turning into that of interest.

"What?" He frowns, looking at her with interest.

"You're not wearing a suit." She states.

"After everything... _that's_ your first thought?"

"Well...you're the only one sat in front of me. And you've been sat in front of me for over a decade and a half... _in a suit_!" She points out.

He chuckles, his grin falling into a lopsided appreciation of her strange skills.

 _She's missed him._ Missed the way that his face makes her calmer, in the face of such problematic events. His hand has been something reassuring to hold onto, _a guide_ over these past few days, and yet, less than she ever expected to need from _him_.

 _Her Boss._

 _Her Coworker._

 _Her Friend._

 _Her...Harvey._

 _The problem of course, is that she has a feeling of missing something that she's not entirely sure went away..._

She takes a deep breath, examining herself then. A search for more clues. One broken leg. A broken pelvis - _she felt that earlier, for sure_ \- and a broken elbow. Her hand rises to feel a bandage on her head, sticking over her hairline.

Her eyes flick to Harvey's again, as a hand slides down to her face. She feels squidgy and unlike herself. She frowns self-consciously.

"Be honest...how do I...look?" She asks him.

"You want the truth or something beautiful?" He offers with a tentative smirk.

"I'll go with...soft truth, and an upside swing of something beautiful." She requests.

"Okay…" He nods, his face thoughtful as he takes her left hand in his. "Your face is swollen, and purple in places, and kind of puffy. But there's only a bump on your head and a split lip, so it's...very _temporary_."

"Ah, _you know your audience_." She says, smiling against her still puffy cheeks.

"And with a little cover up," He adds.

"Okay, back down, Max Factor." She says raising a hand to his quick smarts. "You gonna tell me what happened, yet?" She asks, her tone cutting through their playfulness.

He swallows thickly, his expression taking a nosedive. " _Donna_ ," He objects lightly, his eyes darting to the bed.

"Harvey, if you threw me under the M5 bus, I feel like I should know." She jokes, looking at him.

"You...you don't remember?" He asks, checking.

She notes how his face turns a grey kind of serious.

"No." She tells him blankly, shaking her head.

"You, ah…" He pauses. For a moment she sees him struggle with something, before taking in a harsh breath and then sitting up to look directly at her, his hand loosening around hers somewhat.

"We had... _gotten into a fight_ , and you walked off. I tried to follow you...and _you didn't look both ways,_ "

"What?" She frowns, not quite believing his recounting of events. "Well that just sounds….dumb of me." She remarks.

"A truck hit you on the street corner...right by work." He explains.

Her eyes widen, but somehow it doesn't seem like the oddest thing in hidden in his words. "What do you mean 'fight', Harvey? We hardly ever fight." She says, her face bending in sheer disbelief.

"You _really_ don't...remember, do you?" He checks, worry lining itself in the way he sets his crooked mouth.

"No." She blinks, shaking her head once more. "What's going on, Harvey?" She presses.

"What... _ **do you**_ remember?" He asks, sitting forward.

"Like, _the last thing_?" She checks, looking about the room for a moment.

"Yeah. Right before."

"Uh..." She swallows, her eyes narrowing in thought as she looks to the left corner of the room. "Jessica had left, and Mike was back with us and...I had said," She pauses, something flickering in her mind. _A memory of the two of them._ "I had said that I wanted more…. _out of life_."

She watches Harvey's expression flatten, as if it wasn't what he was expecting.

"Harvey...how much time have I lost?" She asks him, observing his hand in hers as over one hundred possibilities flit around in her mind.

"Uh...I should…" He stammers. It's unlike him, and it doesn't ease her fears any.

"Harvey... _tell me_...how much time have I lost?" She says, squeezing his hand slightly.

"About...three or four... _months_." He says, his eyes closing for a moment. As if he seems shaken by the news.

"What?" She frowns.

"I should... _go_...get a Doctor." Harvey says, rising from his seat then.

She frowns, unprepared by his sudden exit.

 ** _They had a fight._**

 ** _She got hit by a truck._**

 ** _She lost four months._**

Her life was certainly off-kilter.

 _That was for damn sure._

.

* * *

.

Harvey dashes to the bathroom, shortly after explaining to a nurse what he's found out about Donna. He needs some privacy, somewhere to process everything. He splashes water on his face, gathering his thoughts as he is able to sift through them.

 _She has no idea what has gone on between the two of them._

 _Paula?_ She doesn't know about her. About his relationship...

In Donna's eyes, Paula is...just a therapist. The idea strangely brings him some comfort. It made things easier somehow. He's not sure why.

But the kiss... _gone as well_. She has no idea of the things that had followed. The hate filled words. _Her leaving or trying to..._

Will he be forced to tell her all the awful things that they'd said to one another of late, when the thing he most wants in the entire world is to take every single one of them back?

He picks up his phone, dialling a number he's only dialed a handful of times.

"Rachel? Do you have an hour or two?" He asks impatiently.

"Ugh, I'm a little swamped actually, Harvey...is everything okay? _How's Donna? Is she awake?_ " He hears her ask.

"She's...yeah... _she is_...but... _she doesn't remember anything about the last few months_. Nothing after Mike came back to the firm."

"Oh. That's..right..." He hears her say. "Are you going to tell her?"

He knows by her tone, to what she's referring to.

"I...I don't know. She needs time..."

"I'll let Louis and Mike know." She says, the statement perfunctory. If there was any indignation in her tone she's not showing it, and for that he's grateful.

"Okay. Thanks Rachel." He says, a limp smile. "I'll let you know when I know more."

"You need me to come down there?" He hears her ask, as an afterthought.

"Don't rush if you're busy. I need that firm covered."

"Just to let you know...Louis and Mike have taken your most important clients, and we've asked a few of the partner's you trust to take the rest." She says. "The Official story, as far as everyone knows is that you're taking personal leave and Donna is…. _well_...we're working on damage control there. Due to the location of the accident, and the way you two had been prior, news has kind of spread throughout the building…but Louis let the partners know about Donna, and we're doing our best to cover it."

"Okay, thanks Rach," He says, sighing heavily.

He'd forgotten about the firm.

 _The Fights._

 _The stalking in and out of the firm with a sense of abandon riding on fire._

For two people with their professionalism held well above their personal lives, they'd sure shit on that principle over the past few weeks.

It seemed that they were the only thing that could rip everything apart. He'd learnt that the hard way...

"Give our love to Donna." She says down the phone. He can hear the sentiment rich in her words.

"I will. Talk to you later." He says softly, ending the call.

.

* * *

.

"Okay Donna, so now we've covered the basics, do you know what today's date is?" The Doctor asks, looking to Donna.

"Are you asking me for the date _I thought it was_ , or the date I now know _it is_?" She asks the Doctor, her eyes flicking to Harvey for a second.

"If you hadn't been told anything previous to this conversation since you woke up, what date, or specifically _what month_ do you think is it?" The woman clarifies.

"Ugh... _June_?" Donna says.

"Okay. June of what year?"

" _This year_. Twenty Seventeen."

"Okay. So...what was happening in June? That you can remember? Home life, or work?"

"I….Mike had returned back to the firm. Jessica had left for Chicago. _I_...had just received a huge payout for a prototype that I had been working on. _And_ …." She leans back, taking in the thought. "That's...pretty much it, I think." She says resolutely.

She watches as the Doctor looks to Harvey, who nods a confirmation of recounted events.

"Okay. So...it appears that you have around four months missing from your memory. Now, often when a person is involved in an serious accident _much like yours_ , and they hit their head like you did, they can suffer retrograde amnesia."

"Right...okay...I think I watched this on some show…" She remarks.

"Okay, good," The Doctor chuckles.

 _She wonders how many people have referenced television shows against diagnoses within these walls._

"So, is this... _permanent_?" She asks.

"We'll only know over time. The brain is a very sensitive thing, and the fact that you hit your head on the left hand side of the temporal lobe may suggest why it's caused you to lose a significant amount of past events. Now, we'll monitor this, and get you to recount the next few days, just in case your condition extends to more than just past memories. If that's the case, then we may put you in for a CAT scan to check a few things. But in the meantime, whilst you're getting better, I'd like you to think about each day. Simple things, like... _times that the nurses come by, and times you eat._ When visitors arrive, things like that, so that you have reference points."

"Okay."

"But don't let it worry you. The memories...they could come back." The Doctor tells her.

"Okay. Thankyou Doctor." She says, watching the woman wander out of her room.

She watches Harvey shuffle then, sitting further forward on his chair as he wraps an arm around his right shoulder.

"You look like shit." She tells him, smirking.

"Thanks, Donna." He says, chuckling to himself. "And to think, I was so considerate with describing your appearance earlier…" He notes, feigning a frown in her direction.

"I only say it because I care." She gives him a restrained look, her lips twisting in a private smile. "How much have you even slept _this week_?" She lectures.

Harvey groans, regarding his surroundings. "Oh, I don't know...a fair amount in this old chair," He regards, tapping the chair's flimsy armrest for effect.

"Harvey...you need to go home. Get some rest. _I'm fine_." She says, her voice bending slightly in pity.

 _Truth is, she's not fine. She feels like shit. But she's got one up on him._ _Two, considering she has a bed..._

"Okay. I will." He says plainly.

She narrows her eyes, not believing his blanket tone for even one second.

" _No_...you'll wait until I fall asleep again and then you'll fold into that chair like a liquid." She lectures harshly, the effort immediately making her tired.

"Donna...you've been unconscious for nearly four days... _I was worried_." He excuses.

" _I know_. But I'm alive and _not quite_ kicking, now." She half-jokes, glancing at her cast. "You don't need to worry, Harvey."

"Donna,"

"Did you see it? Did you see it happen?" She asks him.

" _Yes_." He nods slowly, his face guarded then. "And it _terrified_ me."

She nods in understanding, then, playing with the blanket that folds over her cast covered stomach.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." She says delicately.

" _Donna_ ,"

 _He can't tell her. He can't tell her that it was he who caused this entire mess..._

His phone starts to buzz, as he frowns, fishing it out of his pocket.

 _Paula._

His frown deepens.

"Who's Paula?" She asks.

His wide eyes shoot up to Donna, a suspended expression on her face as she reads his.

"Paula Agard…" He offers.

"Your therapist?" She asks, her auburn brows bending with the insinuation.

"Yes." He says, snatching the words.

" _Oh_." She says blankly.

He watches her straighten in her seat, looking about herself for a moment with a sense of detachment.

" **I was meant to have a session today**." He lies, folding his phone back into his pocket. It was quick, the impulse to completely lie to her just to quash _that_ look, that shrewd process of thought running through her head. _She always had been quick at matching up the puzzle pieces._ But he just bring himself to do it to her a second time, to watch that look on her face at his words, that disappointment that fleeted through her eyes last time only to see her cover it up again just as quick.

Her eyes flick back to his gaze just as quickly.

"Hows that... _going_?" She asks, her tone ambiguous.

"Good." He lies, shrugging.

"You probably shouldn't ditch your session, then." She reminds him softly.

"Donna...this is...more...important."

"You mean... ** _I_** am."

"Yes." He answers softly, nodding.

"Well, as grateful as I am, that you've been here, _looking out for me_ , I need you look after yourself too." She says, watching him shift with a sense of discomfort. "Otherwise, I'll have Mike come and kidnap you."

"Oh, he already did that, _believe me_." He says with a wry smile.

"Harvey." Her head tilts, frustration falling over her face.

He sighs at her pushing.

She could lose most of her memory, and she'd still be Donna. Her traits are ingrained in her.

When he thinks about it, he _is_ tired. He's slept half of one night in over four days. And the days leading up to that he'd barely slept a wink, either. Maybe it's time he has some proper sleep. _Given recent events...given this sudden 'hail mary' pass..._

"Okay…" He says reluctantly, giving her a look. "I'll go." He says, his back protesting as he finally stands. "But on one condition." He says, for once stealing a page out of her book.

"Who do you think you are….me?" She accuses playfully, not missing a beat.

"The condition is...take it easy... _don't over do it_...and...anything you want,"

"Apart from you to 'go home and rest'?" She bests, cutting the meaning in his words.

"Do you want anything?" He presses, giving her a heavy look.

She smirks, a finger touching her lips in thought as she indulges him then. "I'd like...the current issue of Vogue...some shitty off the rack tabloid papers and my Marni bag. Thankyou." She says, slight triumph at her quick decision making, despite her tiredness.

"I think Rachel took it to your place. I'll pick it up."

"Do you even have a key?"

"I...think so." He frowns, racking his brain for the answer. He's sure Rachel has one, if not.

"Thankyou, Harvey." She says, restraining a warm smile.

He leans forward, his face unsure at the action as he bends down to kiss her forehead, just left of her bandage on a part of her skin that's not so bruised and red and sore.

She feels it in a wave.

 _Bergamot and cinnamon on his skin, and a clear blue smell of his clothes._ She inhales a breath, watching as he moves back to standing.

"You're welcome. I'll see you later." He promises, his hands sliding into his pockets as he wanders thoughtfully to the door.

"A lot later." She warns, watching him flash a potent look at her comment.

She watches as he leaves, a strange familiarity in his action,

That want to stay,

And the half-decision to go.

.

* * *

 _._

 _Standing now  
Calling all the people here to see the show  
Calling for my demons now to let me go  
I need something, give me something wonderful  
I believe_

 _She won't take me somewhere I'm not supposed to be  
You can't steal the things that god has given me  
No more pain and no more shame and misery_

 _You can't take me down  
You can't break me down  
You can't take me down  
You can't take me down  
You can't break me down  
You can't take me down  
Love and hate_

 _How much more are we supposed to tolerate  
Can't you see there's more to me than my mistakes  
Sometimes I get this feeling makes me hesitate_

' _Love and Hate' By Michael Kiwanuka_

* * *

 _._

… _ **.Thank you**_

 _ **For What?**_

 _ **For Twelve years..**_

.

* * *

.

He closes the door to his apartment, toeing off his shoes with a tiredness.

It's been a long four days. _Four long days of waiting and observing and almost praying._ He had pledged from day one to be by her side until she woke up. Now she's awake and...she can't remember a thing. Over one hundred and twenty days missing from her life. Missing important details. Events. Moments.

Once again, like the ping of a rubber band, they are in completely different places to one another.

He pads over to his mini bar, bending down to pluck the lid off of the glass decanter, and pouring whiskey enough for three into one glass. He wanders over to the couch, sipping at the first real moment of relaxation, when he hears the door go. He places the glass down, padding, sock clad over to the front door.

He opens it, not even paying mind to who could be calling at this late hour.

"Harvey."

He blinks, noting the distinctly clipped tone, a fraction quieter than he's used to. His body tenses once more, but for a different reason.

"Hey…. _Paula_ ," He starts, apology ridden and a touch remorseful. "I'm...sorry I've not been in touch... _things with_ …"

"Can we talk," She interrupts rather than asks, pushing past him without an ounce of question in her words.

He follows her as she walks into the middle of the lounge, turning to face him.

He wonders what exactly is about to happen.

 _He's too tired for either possibility, really._

"Look...I…. _like you_...I might have even... _loved_ you. So...what I'm about to say, is hard for me to say, but recent events have made it apparent that it needs to be said, before it's too late. So," She beings.

"Paula, _you don't have to_..."

" **You love her**." She says. "You love Donna. And I don't think that that's ever going to change. _And perhaps_...part of me chose to ignore it...because, instead of going to her, you came to me. And I thought that that _meant something_. And I _should_ ….know better. My job teaches me to know better...but I can't be in this…. _whatever this is_...if you can't separate how you feel about her."

He blinks, his head slow in the process of information in front of him.

 _It appears that she's finally giving him an 'out'._

He wonders how many Donna's given him over the years, without him truly realising, and if he's passed them up as flippant or goading because of his need to have her with him.

It changes things. Changes them. Changes this.

" _You're right_." He says, quietly, biting on his lip at having to be the one to say it. "I shouldn't have let this go on as long as it has. It's not been fair to you."

She looks taken aback for a second, and it occurs to him that perhaps she and Donna are not that different. They've both said things, and encouraged the possible answer, only to expect something entirely different from him.

"So this really _is_ the end?" She offers, her face bending.

"I'm sorry, Paula."

She looks about herself, words suddenly not matching up. "I should... _go_ ," She says, heading for the door with an awkwardness.

She pauses, turning to him as his eyeline follows her. "Do me a favour and just... _be happy_ , Harvey."

"I will." He nods, unable to return the sentiment, considering the facts. He watches as her tiny frame wanders to the door.

She stops for a moment, her hand fishing into her pocket as she frowns in thought. He watches as she brings out a familiar item, walking back to him. She pauses, holding it in front of him as his hand raises below it to catch it.

"This was _hers_ , wasn't it?" She checks, her own pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

His face drops, a frown appearing as a line between his eyebrows. He nods, taking the key in his hand.

"Yes." He says.

She nods, wandering back to the door.

He watches as she closes the door behind her without another word.

 _Something things are better left unsaid_ , he thinks, as he stares at the key that seems to keep making it's way back into his hand.

He folds it into his pocket, picking up his glass along the way, and wanders blindly to his bedroom as he discards his clothes and falls into bed.

He sleeps like a log, missing the fall of the sun into the rainbow tinged horizon, and the moon that flexes it's crescent shape with beams of white.

 _In the morning, he decides to get all of his ducks in a row._

 _The idea of such a thing seems long overdue..._

 _. ._

. .


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's notes** : Hey guys, sorry for the massive delay, lots of lame work stuff got in the way!

To those waiting for THE NEW WORLD ORDER, it's a hard fic to write, almost like re-writing season 6, so it's taking a while. I'll try and push out big chapters. Meanwhile this and 'Donna' will be continued/finished. Don't forget to find us on darveyfics on tumblr for prompts (Xmas ones coming up to request soon) Season 7b looks ropey. Let's hope we can stem the flow.

 _Also_ , huge thanks to aboutwinning on Tumblr, who raised my attention to the fact that Harvey Specter has some SERIOUS OCD. I live with someone who has it, so I'm not quite sure how I missed that, but it's a real root of his personality. It's all learning, here ;-) A_

. . . .

 **Chapter 6**

Harvey had never used his key to Donna's apartment before. He always considered it a formality, the exchanging of such a thing. She had been his Assistant, and with that, she needed a key to his condo - his tiny apartment, _at the time_ \- in case he needed anything at short notice, such as fresh suit, or an overnight bag.

But there had never been any call really, for him to have _her_ key. But she was Donna, and had her own ways, so when she gave him one in return, he didn't bat an eyelid at the simple gesture, nor did he try to make more of it than there was to make. And there it had remained, hanging on his door keys without another word. If he ever needed her, he would knock. And that was that.

Unlike him, she had stayed in the same apartment since the DA's office, and even when her own pay scale had increased, she'd remained. He had asked her once, why she never sought a better, or bigger apartment. She had merely told him 'I already have the best apartment in New York', which had always launched them into a debate over who _really_ had the best apartment, much to Harvey's insistence.

He glances at the '206', the black door glossy and imposing against the burnished gold, almost regal italicised lettering. He remembered the old door, white, lighter, and younger. This door now spoke of age. _Of change._ It seems that over the years, the apartment had changed with her. He pushes the key into the lock, twisting it once, as it resists slightly, before hearing the lock disengage, allowing him to push the door open with his hand.

He's not been in her apartment for a while.

Every single time he's here it's like their lives are turning over into something else.

 _~ **You know I love you Donna,**_

 _Maybe you_ _are_ _jealous._

 _ **I**_ _think you're worthy...~_

He wanders through the lobby, the stark red paint and white trim streaking past his peripherals as he enters the lounge come dining room come kitchen.

The place is small, very small compared to his, but it's homely, and stylish, like a bespoke five star hotel. He notices something about them both in the furnishings, a contrast between light greys and magnolia, of an onyx and cream framed sideboard, against the burnt oranges and reds and golds of accessories all carefully placed in position. Even in the paintings she has, they highlight this duality in her. Of them.

 _I spent twelve years putting you first, and the day I finally decided to do something for myself, you didn't just stop treating me like family, you started treating my like a stranger…_

 _Are you saying you're coming back to me..._

Even amongst the more tender and ambiguous memories that stir up at his being here, _He feels at home in this place._ At home in the memory and feeling of her.

 _He's never noticed that before._

He blinks, looking about the place for her bag. Knowing Rachel as he now did, she would have stashed it somewhere safe, with Donna's lack of rooms, it was the kind of place you could easily bust open, and then smash and grab. He follows a hunch, trying not to linger on that fact, wandering into the bedroom.

It's odd, being in this particular room. That palpable address of a moment long since past for both of them.

The bedroom has changed as well, more regal than it seemed the one and only time that he was actually in here.

His mind swells with images then, her, speadeagled on her own bed, smirking widely and riddled with red hair and bangs, and him, knelt on the floor with an eagerness and a wanton smirk of his own.

And. Whipped. Cream. _Everywhere. Literally everywhere, much to his dismay._

Which of course, turned into laughing, and sputtering on his part, the sound of him having too good a time as she moaned casually in between fits of unbridled laughter. It pulls on his heart then. _Thirteen Years._ He had felt too much in that moment, far too much for her and for them and for the bigger picture.

He wonders now, if he'd been running all that time, only to end up back at the start again, like his life was one great circle leading straight back to her. To the heart of his problems and solutions wrapped up with a big red bow.

He sighs, spying the familiar bag resting on a chair. He moves forward, picking it up. He feels like an asshole holding it. The times he's done that, a woman has always been present. He figures that he better get used to it, if he's made his mind up already.

He takes one look around the main lounge area, checking for anything that she may have forgotten.

But she's Donna, of course. She's like a graceful elephant. _She never forgets._

His eyes catch at a photo, accompanying several others hanging on the wall.

It's a photo of her, Jessica, Louis and himself. It's a celebration of some kind. She's dressed in turquoise and if you didn't know better, they looked like a couple. They looked like a team as a four, of course, all smiling and cheering with champagne, but if you cut out the other two, they looked like any other less-than-ordinary couple.

He wonders if everything she's ever said about them is true. His heart sinks deeper then, the regret seeping in like bile through chalk.

He has to make it up to her. _All of it._

 _Starting with one bag, and a few trashy tabloid magazines._

….. . . .

 _Are you watching your back,  
or are you moving forward.  
Are you lost in the dreams.  
Well this is our little corner,  
of the universe.  
And we will find a way home.  
We will find a way home.  
It goes straight to the heart._

 _K.S Rhoads 'Our corner of the Universe'_

… _. . . ._

Donna is….bored. _Hospital_ is boring. She knows that for many it's a place of mending and discovery and protection, and so to save shitting on the entire medical profession in one go, she's kept tight lipped about the bubbling feeling. Smiling at nurses, and nodding at Doctors when they ask how she's feeling.

And she's okay, really. She _feels_...okay. Admittedly, things hurt and she can't move much, and she's on some pretty heavy medication - _enough to take down a lion, she supposes_ , given all the broken bones - but she's mostly awake, her brain is...altered, but active and it's moving towards its usual high functioning self. The real problem, is that there's no one to keep her company, and not a lot to do, ney, permitted, within a hospital. Her Father had gone home for a few days, at her own request, and her Mother had been delayed - still - on a cruise, giving her an immediate sigh at her own good fortune. _She couldn't deal with her Mother's unnecessary fussing right now._ After about an hour it would only irritate her, and in all honesty, when it boiled down to it, she wasn't emotionally or mentally prepared to deal with the lingering whine of a woman that would turn a justified fight on it's head in a way that made it all _her_ fault. Louis had popped by earlier, with flowers and kind words, only to leave shortly, and she had asked Mike and Rachel specifically to take a day and get their lives in order before coming to see her.

It seems that everyone had rallied to be there. For her. Her family. Her people. She's in awe of their efforts, but it doesn't make being a veritable prisoner in a room all by herself any more palatable a situation.

She wonders how long it will be until she can go home. Probably a week, if she's feeling unlucky.

The door to her room opens then, and she feels a smile bend immediately at the sight of the familiar person, still in less than familiar attire.

" _Bored yet_?" He quips, sauntering into her room with a usual amount of over-played confidence.

"Oh my god. _You have no idea_ …" She remarks, smirking knowingly at him. Her fingers wiggle excitedly as she tries to sit up slightly, watching as she stands at the side of her bed, planting her bag in front of her, at her previous request. She dives into her Marni bag, grasping for her iphone like a child at christmas.

" _Oh_ …." She sighs longingly, pressing the on switch. "My darling, I've not seen you in soooo long," She coos, rummaging around in her bag for the power cord.

"It's only been four days, Donna." He reminds her, his voice charting a dry humour in it.

"I _ **like**_ my phone, okay?" She defends, giving him a stern look.

"Rachel charged it for you." He adds, pointing vague towards her, before pulling several magazines out of a brown bag under his arm.

"Oh, that Rachel," She smiles, a warming peeling sound at her reliable 'angel' of a best friend. "I told her and Mike to stay away today, and get some of their lives back." She informs him.

"That was nice." He says, sitting beside her.

"Well, you said you were coming by, so." She shrugs, diverting her attention to her bag.

"What if I didn't?" He offers, a twitch of playfulness in his question.

"Then you'd be getting the silent treatment from me for not reuniting me with _this one_ ," She warns, indicating her phone.

"How you feeling today?" He asks, observing her settled bruises that contrast with her familiarly peppy attitude.

" _Okay_ , actually." She muses. "I mean, I'm broken, and drugged up to the nines, but...I slept well last night."

He nods, swallowing at the next thought. "Where's your Dad?" He asks.

"I told him to come up in a few days. He's been out of town, so he needs the rest."

"Donna," He says, his tone hitting the ground.

"What?" She defends, frowning slightly despite the ache that it encourages.

"You don't have to be _so_ …"

"So _what_?" She accuses, her tone hardening.

He struggles over the words, her gaze sharp like an eagle's. "So... _capable_ all the time." He explains. "We're _meant_ to take care of you." He reasons.

"Harvey...I'm a grown adult." She reminds him, her face softening then.

"Who got _hit_ by a truck," He adds sternly.

"I don't need you all watching over me." She says. She watches his face turn annoyed in a second. "Now, I get that when I was... _out of it_ , that you all rallied. That's what we do. But...now that I'm awake, I'm fine." She says, pulling out the last word in a week attempt to convince him.

"What about when you need to go home?" He asks deftly.

"They'll...give me a wheelchair." She responds casually.

"Donna," He sighs.

"Harvey. I know that you saw me get hit, and you're worried about me but...you don't need to be." She says, her eyes searching his.

"Well," He says, looking about himself before he meets her eye. "Maybe I do." He counters softly.

She gives him a look, bordering on gratefulness and some other emotion he's unsure of.

"Look, if you're gonna push everyone else away, then I'll have to be the one pushing you down fifth in a wheelchair." He reasons, stubbornly.

"Harvey," She sighs, her expression settling. "I didn't mean...I know you must have a lot going on at work. You've taken off enough time as it is."

" _ **Did I say you were**_ _ **making me**_ _ **do it**_?" He argues boldly, his voice raising. She's insufferable. "I mean…" He pauses, taking her hand in his. She flinches, albeit barely, before allowing her hand to soften in hers. "I _want_ to...be there."

"Harvey," She repeats, that familiar tone of voice that she reserves for the moments that he oversteps the mark with them. Like an eternal buffer for his emotional growth in that department.

Only now, does it begin to grate on him.

"Donna, you gotta give in somewhere. Now, Either it's Mike and Rach and Louis, or...it's...Me." He offers.

She pouts then, giving him a restrained look of defeat. "Fiine. I guess you're my...trusty aid." She says, her hand loosening from his to bat at his shoulder. "Geeze," She remarks, her eyes widening at him.

He smirks then, handing her a magazine. "Now read your god damned tabloid." He orders, hiding a smirk behind his faux grumpiness.

"What about you?" She asks, frowning minutely.

" _ **I**_ ," He starts, folding out a paper. "Have the Finance section of the New York Times." He exclaims, give her a smug look.

In a matter of moments, reciprocated looks turn into a settled silence between the two.

Harvey's mind drifts occasionally, into the same action, within a different setting.

His Condo.

Her Apartment.

Or maybe a new place.

That's just _theirs_.

…..

 _If you're not brave enough to call,_

 _If you can't find the words to say "I'm Broken"_

 _If you can't stand to face the fall_

 _with your shaking hands, your wounds wide open_

 _I won't desert you_

 _We can pass the time_

 _Counting the seconds_

 _Let it Go By, Let it Go By, Let it Go By_

' _Let it go by' By Fiora & Robot Koch_

 _. . . . . ._

Two painful days later:

 _Turns out that once bones start to heal, even if you have a great healthcare plan, you're pretty much booted out of hospital the moment you're on the mend..._

Donna had been itching to get out anyway, with Harvey her only constant companion, she had been entertained at least, watching him sleep like a folded monkey in his chosen chair, or picking on her inability to move around and use him like her Assistant, a sudden change for them both, but one that Harvey took oddly in his stride. Now that she had her phone, with the policy in separate hospital rooms being more relaxed, she could at least message Rachel and Mike and her family and entertain herself. The tv held a boring assortment of daytime channels, with the usual dank soaps and news feed. She realised then, that she really wasn't a hospital person. So when the Doctors had given her the all clear for discharge that afternoon, aiding her with a wheelchair and crutches, and about a ton of medication - with the promise of a string of physio and follow up appointments - she took it and all but ran with the concept of imminent freedom.

"Push faster, Grandpa," She goads, turning her head to give him a stern look as he towers over her.

"I'd be careful who you antagonise, Paulsen," he says, using her name in a haley's comet of a moment. "I control the breaks, you know."

She mock gasps, sensing him quicken the pace. "You wouldn't." She gasps.

" _I would_." He says, "But I won't." he adds.

The moment disjoints them slightly, like a ghost from the past.

He slows the pace then, straightening with an awkwardness.

"What time's the shuttle?" She asks, changing the subject.

"About ten minutes. We have time." He notes, look vaguely to his watch. "Hey," He says, mid push. "I was thinking…"

"Oh god forbid," She groans, making fun of him.

He rolls his eyes at her remark, continuing. " _Your place doesn't have an elevator_ ,"

"That is a...disappointing truth, yes." She frowns.

"So... _I was thinking_ …" He blinks, noting the repetition in his words. "Maybe you should...stay with we...for a few weeks. Until you're literally back on your feet."

"Uh…"

"I have to go back to work next week. But...I'll be there in the evenings, someone to torture when you're bored." He offers.

"Is that what you think I do?" She asks, him, humour in her voice.

"I just mean...it's easier to get in and out of mine. And I have that guest bedroom."

"Hmm... what about my things? I want to feel at home, if I'm going to feel this stationary."

"I can get them. Clothes, nicknacks. You know…whatever you need." He offers.

"Have you ever had anyone even stay at your condo?"

"Besides your parents? No...but...you practically lived in my office for over a decade. Seeing you after work will be like seeing you during the day. _Normal_." He reasons, bringing them both to a stop as they land just inside of the Hospital entrance. He slides to her side, her bag over his shoulder.

"Harvey," She says, a reserved awkwardness in her tired expression. "As nice an offer as that _is_ ," She says, placing the words ever so gently. "I'd get in your way...after a hard day at work. _Plus_...you couldn't bring a string of women back to the apartment.

"That's what you're worried about?" He says, frowning. "I don't...do that anymore."

"Really?" She remarks, disbelief on her face.

"No." He says plainly.

"What if you get tired of me?" She options.

" _ **Donna**_ ," He placates, looking at her then, her long skirt blowing slightly around her cast, that catches his attention mid thought. "In nearly thirteen years, I've been many things about you, but tired is not one of them."

"Irritated?" She offers, her face suddenly animated. "Entertained. Shocked. _**Impressed**_?"

"To name a few," He smiles, indulging her. "But if it doesn't work out, then by then, you may be able to actually get to your apartment."

"See, I just thought we were going to strap me to gurney and hoist me up there." She quips. "Maybe the flash of a fireman, strong armed and grizzly, pulling seductively on a rope." She sighs, enjoying the image in her head with a wistfulness.

"I'm pretty sure the fire department are swamped with cats up trees, but...if you need me to pull a favour." He offers, indulging her. "Plus, my apartment _is_ bigger...and that means you may get less bored than being in your own without the promise of leaving. With mine...you can wheel yourself to the elevator, and even pop into work should you need to."

"Hmm...you do present an attractive proposition, counsellor." She muses, her finger coming up to her chin in an animated expression. She lingers for a moment, his own expression suspended against hers. "Okay...I'll be your roomie." She agrees finally.

"I was thinking more of a _house guest_ , but,"

"Fine...if you wanna use the technical term." She says, exasperated. "And in that case, I expect breakfast in bed, _and_ pillow mints." She requests, animated once more.

"Pillow mints? Who even likes thoes?" He says, scrunching up his face in distaste.

"It's the gesture of a thing," She tells him, smiling as the shuttle slides up to the hospital. "Know your audience," She remarks, throwing him another withering look.

…..

 _She may be the face I can't forget_

 _The trace of pleasure or regret_

 _May be my treasure or the price I have to pay_

 _She may be the song that summer sings_

 _Maybe the chill that autumn brings_

 _Maybe a hundred different things_

 _Within the measure of a day -_

 _She, who always seems so happy in a crowd_

 _Whose eyes can be so private and so proud_

 _No one's allowed to see them when they cry_

 _She may be the love that cannot hope to last_

 _May come to me from shadows in the past_

 _That I remember 'till the day I die_

 _She maybe the reason I survive_

 _The why and wherefore I'm alive_

 _The one I'll care for through the rough in many years_

 _Me, I'll take her laughter her tears_

 _And make them all my souvenirs_

 _And where she goes I've got to be_

 _The meaning of my life is_

 _She,_

' _ **She** ' By Elvis Costello. _

…. . . .

 _He was right_ , she thinks to herself. His condo _is_ bigger, obviously, but it also has more open space to breathe in, less….constriction than her own very comfy but limited sized apartment.

There is a detachment in the decor, in the sparse lines and sharp edges. But she knows Harvey, and so the lines and heavy angles don't feel quite so cold, or quite as stark. They are the shapes that he breathes in, and a therefore recurring theme in her life.

Over the years, in working for Harvey she'd barely spent any prolonged amount of time in her own apartment. It was more of a functional accommodation, for nights in with friends, or Sunday afternoons watching television and blurring into the background. For sleeping and changing and refreshing herself in between work days. Even with an inconsistent string of boyfriends, she had mostly spent time at theirs rather than at her own place. For all she told Rachel, _about being more than a Legal Secretary_ , over the years, her life had become very little _but_ that. Her extracurriculars were becoming few and farther in between, replaced more and more, by Harvey, and their firm, and their work life.

It's made her think more about the things that are missing. That she's allowed to slip by over the years.

 _Right now, in her current position, is not the time to linger over such things..._

She looks around the apartment, positioned sideways on the long couch, her left leg resting on top of a few cushions. It's not the most comfortable couch in the world - _hers is far more homely, with its softer material and immersive qualities_ \- but with the several cushions and a quilt from Harvey's bedroom, she had managed to turn a leather studded couch into a place where she could relax for an hour, whilst Harvey pottered about in the kitchen, rustling up something dinner themed for the both of them.

Despite her familiarity with his surroundings, there was something still strange about being here with him, about being in his company, like this. She hadn't seen him wear a suit for over a week, his usually strict lines still blurred by softer materials. He was still neat, still anally rendered - his habit of always being tidy and 'just so' would probably never wane - with his simple sweater and brown slacks, but, in the hour or two since they had arrived, she'd seen him relax much more. It was clear that it meant something to him, to have her out of the hospital and here with him.

She lets the feeling percolate through her and soothe her broken bones, as she watches him, sleeves rolled up, flipping two chicken breasts on a skillet, his hair looking like fingers have been running through it in thought.

"Hey there _Gordon Ramsey_...what'cha making?" She calls to him.

"Really?" He narrows his eyes. "I _hate_ that guy..."

"Whether you hate him or not, he's a pretty good chef." She notes.

"Hmm...in answer to your question...I'm making chicken...with... _something_. Maybe pasta?" He offers, thinking on the concept.

"Ooh. 'Something'...sounds...nondescript, but tasty." She plays, watching how he looks up, a tired expression ready and waiting just for her to pick apart. She smiles. "I could _really_ use a drink." She says, giving him a suggestive look.

"Too bad you're under strict instructions _not_ to mix your meds with alcohol." He responds curtly.

"But it might be a good buzzz." She whines, frowning at his rigidity. "Don't be a buzz kill, Harvey."

" _Actually_ , according to your particular medication, which, by the way, _I read the instructions for_ because _you never ever do_...it says that alcohol actually lessens the effect of your pain meds. So…" His mouth twists, giving her the bad news. "If you want to be drunk, but in considerable pain, be my guest."

"Well, you're no fun." She pouts then, folding her arms.

He smiles at her. "I promise...when the time is right...I will _plough you_ with alcohol." He smirks, his eyes flicking to meet hers.

" _You promise_?" She offers, a notable twinkle in her eye.

He chuckles, shaking his head at her flippant attitude, his lips twitching in some private moment that he doesn't entirely share with her.

"Thanks...for this, Harvey." She says, her humour sobering.

"For what?" He enquires, his eyebrows furrowing in the question as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

"For keeping me company." She says, sighing. "We spend so much time at the firm, that I almost forgot that when it comes to being at home, and spending time with actual people...I'm slightly... _lax_...in that department."

"I know. Me too." He agrees.

"What happened to us? When did we become...forty, and alone?" She says, exasperated by the sheer fact.

"Donna...we're _not_ alone." He tells her. "Or, at least...we're alone...together." He clarifies, matter of factly.

She smiles then, watching his level of precision as he draws his attention back to the task at hand. The way he cuts everything in exactly the same way, all in the same direction. Unlike her, with a penchant for sporadic interpretations of meals, when _he_ cooks, it seems that he follows parts of recipes to the letter, but makes decisions independent from it, too. She watches him glance at the instructions to something cream and pasta laden, judging every instruction before replicating it in front of him to his liking.

He's a good cook. Or has all the makings of one, at least. She figures that he just...hasn't made the time.

"Do you like cooking?" She asks him.

He pauses, judging her question as he straightens, putting down the knife in his hand.

"I...it's...yeah...I guess I do." He answers, frowning in thought. "I don't always have the time, but...occasionally, on a weekend, if I'm not busy." He adds, before another thought occurs. "I don't like the complicated stuff. But...yeah...I like cooking." He wagers. "Plus, I know you can't cook worth a damn, so."

"That is _not_ true. I've cooked for you before." She defends, annoyance charting her features.

"I made most of it, last time." He corrects, a slightly withering look on his face.

" _That_ is," She plays at mock outrage in her voice, their eyes blurring into a challenge, before she succumbs to defeat, chuckling. "True...you helped... _a lot_. I can't cook." She admits, her lips closing with a tightness.

"You don't have to be a good a cook, you know." He assures her.

"You sure about that? Don't they teach men when they're young, to look for a woman that can cook?" She offers. "God knows my mother's always insinuated that I sharpen that skill, if I'm ever to 'hook' a guy."

Over the years, her mother has come out with all sorts of things that have surprised and or shocked her.

"Just...go for a guy that can cook." He shrugs simply, putting on a pot of boiling water.

She notices the way he avoids her gaze for a moment, concentrating on the various tasks surrounding him.

"What a modern world we live in," She muses, smiling pointedly. "Can I help?"

His eyes shoot up then. "Keeping yourself away from the kitchen, is _all the help_ I need." He assures her, smirking.

"You're so... _bossy_." She observes.

"That's because you're a troublemaker." He accuses, his eyes narrowing at her in that way they do.

"That's not true." She gawps, rolling her large eyes at his insinuation.

" _It is_...when we're not at work." He counters. "You remember the grapefruit incident, or do I have to remind you?"

"Oh my god, _that woman_ …" she huffs. "I'm still not over it." She admits, causing him to chuckle.

" _I rest my case_ …" He sighs, smiling widely.

"Well...someone's gotta break you out of your rather rigid schedule." She defends, playing with her blanket.

"Isn't that what _you've_ _always_ done?" He offers, waving a spatula at her.

" _Touche_." She smiles.

They fall back into a moment of comfortable silence, as Harvey works away in kitchen, Donna picking up a nearby magazine that she had discarded earlier.

It's a strange sense of domesticity for two people that aren't together.

She tries not to linger on what everything means. _Especially when she's already lost things she doesn't even remember..._

. . .

 _ **Weird place to end things but just wanted to give you guys something.**_ A_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:**

To all the viewers of this show that are disappointed in it's remarkably unplanned delay this spring. Eventually, i'm sure we will find out what happens to Harvey and Donna. And Mike and Rach and Louis (And Jessica) and the fate of our beloved show.

This leads me thank everyone who followed this fic. Sorry for the delay, I took a break from darveyfics, hoping 7B would ignite my muse, but that's not gonna happen any time soon.

 _So, meanwhile let's tie this one up. A _ xx_

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

 **IIIIII**

Harvey Specter is skirting rather dangerous territory.

" _Give it to me_." She orders.

"No." He smirks, far too pleased with himself, as he glances candidly at her.

"Harvey." She chides, glaring pointedly at him.

"You can say my name in as many ways as you'd like, Donna, It's still a 'no'." He says, his voice a flag of colours and that shit eating grin only getting wider.

"Harvey...just because I can't walk freely _yet_ , doesn't mean that I won't crawl across the table and prise it from your cold _dead_ hand." She warns. "Give it to me."

It's hard to take her seriously when her hair is folded into a bun on her head, and she has that fresh morning glow about her, like a sprite or wood nymph.

"Wow, you really _are_ grouchy before your morning coffee." He observes, his smirk twitching ever so slightly with that trademark smoulder of his.

 _They both know he's enjoying this far too much. He always likes to be in control._

Her mouth twists then, restraining the playful feeling of annoyance at this dance that they've been doing over the last few days.

 _It's been a strange week for Donna Paulsen, to add to the strange month and a half before it._

Most of it is Harvey's fault. He's been attentive, and thoughtful, and considerate in a way that he'd only ever played the edge of before.

This, is the first innately 'Harvey' thing he's done all week.

"Harvey. Give me. The damn. _Card._ " She orders sharply, every word landing with a seperate intent as she holds out her hand expectantly.

He smiles then, leaning back and opening the greeting card to eagerly re-read the scrawl of words on the inside.

" _To_ Donna. _Forged from fire, no amount of steel could take_ _ **a Pheonix**_ _down for long_. All my love…. _Louis_." he says, restraining the need to laugh.

She rolls her eyes at his making fun, picking up the white mug in front of her that he had placed there minutes previous, a waft of vanilla tainted coffee tantalising her tastebuds, richly offsetting Harvey's overly satisfied smirk, as it reaches her from the other side of the breakfast table like some sort of proposition.

"I think it's...nice." She placates.

"I think he's... _got a crush on you_." He accuses, his jaw twitching at the comment.

"Well, _obviously_ ," She snorts. "But, still...it's thoughtful." She says. "After all... _you_ didn't get me a card…" She points out, a suggestion in her voice.

His expression stills then. She's so good a hitting a nerve.

"I took you in, _didn't I_?" He counters, his dark brown eyes glinting black for a moment as his wounded expression rises into his angular features. "That's got to be worth _something_ , at least?"

When it comes to her, she's noticed that Harvey has _never liked_ to play second fiddle to Louis Litt.

"Jealousy is not a good look on you," She tells him, smirking.

He dramatically rolls his eyes then, standing in one fluid motion, straightening his waistcoat against his chest, as he slides his suit jacket off of the back of the chair, taking a moment before glancing directly at her.

"You coming by the office today?" He supposes.

"I think so." She muses, before something on him catches her attention, and she gestures for him to come to her, as she pushes on the wheelchair, moving herself backwards and away from the table.

It's a little routine from work that they've continued. She fixes him, and he pretends not to like it. "I have physio at eleven, and then I might swing by after," She offers, taking in the resistant glare that he thoroughly fakes, before striding over to her and bending down to meet her eyes as her hands bend over his tie with that practised touch.

"If you do, I'll take you to lunch," He offers, the bribe heavy in his voice as he watches her concentrate. "Maybe Nougatine, or Per Se?"

He's missed her at work. Her presence, extended more than an office away has always felt too far away from his liking.

"Oh, I'm afraid I already _have_ a date." She plays, the 't' twanging in her mouth, as she sits on the anticipation of his reply.

"Let me guess. _Louis_?" He offers grumpily, his nostrils flaring slightly, as they focus on her watching her own hands as they slide into his lapels, running mid way down his chest.

"Rachel." She corrects, shaking her head at him as his expression visibly softens.

Their eyes connect for a moment, his face inches from hers.

They've fallen into this dance at least a dozen times over the last few weeks. Moments of casual attentiveness between the two of them, culminating in a strange electricity, where both react, only to retract just as quickly, before either can change the rhythm between them.

They're like teenagers, trepidatious, earnest and terrified.

She's been on the edge of exploding with questions for a week now.

He clears his throat, his eyes flicking to the floor as he filters out a sigh, feeling her hands slide away from him as he straightens in front of her, a readied smirk in an effort to change the palpable feeling that's doused the air and coursing through them both.

"I'm sure I'll have time to... _wheel_ by your office." She jokes, earning a small laugh from him as he gathers himself.

"Do you need Ray to take you to the hospital?" He asks casually.

"No, I'm good. I have the shuttle coming at ten." She assures him, wheeling herself back to the table.

"Okay, _Trouble_ ," He reveres, wandering across the lounge. "I'll see you later." He says.

"Not if I see you first," She calls to his retreating form, as she watches him slide his overcoat ono his shoulders, one arm at a time.

" _Cute_ ," He remarks, his eyebrows twitching, before he closes the door behind himself.

It hits him the moment the sound of her closes against the hallway.

He's in love with her.

His lungs breathe every single moment with the notion of loving her, it seems.

But she still has no idea what happened _that day_.

And despite the hail mary of an opportunity that it gave him, to make things right between them after so much strife, the guilt from what led her to him is still haunting him in his sleep.

He decides then. Before anything can change between them,

 _He_ _ **has**_ _to tell her._

 _Tonight._

 _Otherwise this strange place of there's will never fully change..._

* * *

 ** _IIIIIIIII_**

Donna's lucky that she'd been crushing ashtanga yoga since her mid twenties. According to the Physio, it's helped her mobility after such a debilitating accident. That and Harvey's strict rule of her avoiding her apartment and the rush of stairs that could limit her, in favour of his disabled-friendly condo, with adjacent elevator to street level and a walk in shower wide enough for a wheelchair, made the rehabilitation process that much easier.

The last week had seen an improvement on her ability to move, the pain in her hips starting to ache more than gripe at her as they had done over the last month. Her leg is still in plaster, about two weeks from healing fully, according to her doctors, and her elbow has only recently been taken out of plaster. She's taken to using the wheelchair most of the time, with her left elbow and leg in plaster, as she had been far too difficult and unbalanced to use crutches. Harvey had almost bullied her into an electric one, until she had explained that using her arms would help strengthen her body, and only then had he backed down.

"That's it Donna. You're doing great," Doctor Coleman encourages, observing her as she pulls herself up on her crutches. Now that her cast is off of her left arm, and her pelvis has begun to heal, she is now able to work in short bursts with the crutches, strengthening her upper body enough to counter her fracture and the weight of her leg cast. She feels a bead of sweat run down her face as she approaches the end of the long mat, wincing slightly at the pressure in her hips as she carefully swings herself around, making her way back to the chair.

"You've really started to build that confidence I see? Dare I detect some practising at home?" Her Doctor accuses good naturedly.

"Maybe a little," She smirks, glancing at another patient nearby. "I've got a twenty dollar bet with Davis over there. I can't possibly back out now." She remarks, catching the eye of the soft looking older man sat in his own chair in the corner of the room.

"She's a firecracker, that one," The older man calls to the Doctor, before winking at her with the confidence of an experienced Grandpa. The kind of confidence that warms you into a full sense of comfort.

" _I see that_ ," The Doctor acknowledges, smiling between the two. "I think that's enough for today, don't you?" He offers, as Donna slides back into her wheelchair, placing her crutches to the side.

"Oh, I'm sure I could go again," She offers with a faked overconfidence.

 _They both know she's thoroughly tired out._

* * *

 **IIIIIII**

Her life has taken a backseat lately. But given the severity of her injuries, it's to be expected. This would be the first time that she'll be coming to the office, after such a long absence from the place that she called home.

She had toyed with the notion of what she had lost. The memories, and events in the four months prior to the accident, now seemingly lost in a black hole of amnesia. Harvey had told her of her job role, how it had changed from what she had asked for into what she had really wanted. That she understood, but somehow the execution of such a thing had been lost on her.

She was looking forward to seeing her own office. The decor, the feeling of it was lost on her still addled mindset. When she had asked Harvey, he had merely shrugged, telling her ' _It's an office. Next to mine_ '. She hadn't been surprised by that, the concept of moving only one office over from him, despite her role change. Harvey wouldn't have agreed to any further a move. The idea still causes a smile to creep into her features, the restrictive and yet potent reminder of their connection.

A connection that had begun to flex and fumble over the past few weeks. She's avoided counting the times she's ended up falling asleep next to him, slumped against his sturdy form in the middle of the night, over late night re-runs of sitcoms or movies she's claimed not to have seen yet. In the moments that have lingered between them over dinner, and breakfast, and sunday lunch that held a special kind of feeling.

She understands one thing. _She had wanted more. And she had gotten half of that._ But despite not remembering the experience, she has the feeling she'd gotten the less important half. That there was half of that meaning in her words, the half that had caught at his eyes when he had asked what more meant.

She shrugs off the ambiguous feeling, seeing the firm slide up into being as the shuttle grinds to a halt in front of the entryway.

She's thankful for the folding wheelchair, as the cab driver opens the door for her, pulling out the wheelchair and snapping it open onto the sidewalk. She slides herself across the backseat and into the lap of the chair, pulling her batwing cardigan around herself as she wheels herself through the double doors.

People move out of her way, glancing periodically at her, the level of attention no different to the thousand or so times that she's cat-walked into the lobby, often Prada clad and on a personal mission to kick a sizeable amount of ass.

Security seem to recognise her as she wheels past the turnstyle, nodding a silent thanks to them as they let her pass by and towards the elevator, people filing in and out of the four parallel doors.

She's thankful that nobody is waiting when the doors open, allowing her to wheel herself in front-ways, and then turn on the spot to face the doors. At the last minute, a familiar voice is calling to hold the door, something she's not able to accomplish, as a hand slices through the quickly closing gap, a body hopping into the elevator just as the door is about to close.

"Oh holy mother of god," Louis pants, regaining his breath before he notices the redhead beside him. "Donna...you're here. You're back? How are you doing?"

"I'm good Louis. Just thought I'd pay you a visit." She smiles warmly.

"Did you get the card?" He asks, his face expectant as he awaits her response. "I've been meaning to see you, but Harvey said that you were staying with him, and I…"

She chuckles, a warmth flooding her features. "I did. I guess you could say... _the Pheonix...has landed_." She says, referring to his overly creative words.

He grins then, beside himself. "I thought you'd appreciate the reference. I see your arm cast is off. How's your leg?"

"Getting there. I just came from Physio." She explains, notcing the worried look that he struggles to hide from her. "Louis, don't worry. I'm Donna. I'll be up and kicking in no time."

"I didn't doubt that for a second," He smiles. "Harvey'll be happy when you finally get back to work."

"Yeah? Really?" She frowns slightly. It seems odd that he would be that excited. _They see eachother everyday, like always._ She lets the comment slide, looking to the steadily rising numbers on the elevator console.

"You need anything?" He asks behind her shoulder, as she wheels herself out onto the floor, the 'Specter Litt' shining in chrome to her left as she turns right and past the reception.

"I'm good, Louis. We should do lunch this week. Like old times?" She offers.

"I would absolutely _love_ that," He says excitedly. "Thursday? At Daniel? Like old times? I'll make a reservation." He babbles, smiling at her before gathering himself in the other direction. "If you need anything," He calls to her, pointing sharply at her with one of those looks that are so specifically 'Louis Litt' as he continues to move down the hall.

She smiles, before wheeling herself along the hall.

* * *

 **IIIIII**

She notices her own office, from it's colours alone.

She really was good. The sunflower and lemon yellow and light blue and tan decor was so very different from her home decor and yet so her.

She wheels herself to her desk, remembering that she'd left a key of Harvey's in the drawer of her desk, from when she was his assistant. He had given her another one, identical to the one he had given her. It would come in handy now, if she had a spare.

She pulls the drawers out one by one, spotting the can opener.

 ** _~I've been seeing Paula Agard. We've been seeing each other._**

 ** _Tell Harvey how you feel.'_**

 ** _Harvey and I don't want to be together._**

 ** _You were right, Donna. I should have prepared you for Malik, but I didn't because, I couldn't bare the thought of asking you about Harvey in a room full of people._**

 ** _Can't she see, the man she was meant to be with is standing right in front of her face._**

 ** _I'm Sorry Harvey. I just had to know._**

 ** _You made me be the person to cheat on her. After everything she's gone through._**

 ** _What about what I've gone through. No, but you don't care about that. You never did. You just care about what you want. And screw the fact that I've been there, beside you this entire time, trying to deal with the fact that you know I love you, and want more, but you still don't care. You'd rather run into the arms of a woman of your therapist than me._**

 ** _Donna, you throwing yourself at me, doesn't change the fact that I'm seeing someone that's not you. Get over it._**

 _ **No Harvey...from this moment on...we...are done.~**_

She pants heavily, the sheen of sweat on her face and tears filling her eyes, as she catches her surroundings, her heart pounding in her chest as the missing ghosts of the last few months flood back to her in heartbreaking rushes.

He was dating her. His therapist.

She hadn't known.

She had felt desperate and lost and...

She had kissed him.

And he had reacted in the worst possible way.

They had fought.

She's suddenly trapped, laboured by her injuries. The old and more able her would march right out of here, not a teardrop shed, and yet, her hands are shaking too much to muster the strength to move an inch.

But she has to move. She has to get out of here. _Before Harvey comes back. Before Mike sees her. Before Rachel arrives for their lunch date. Before Louis remembers something else that could threaten her emotions._

 _Before any other memories rise to the surface, decayed and dredged from her mind._

* * *

 **IIIIIII**

She holds her breath in stages, just to keep herself from losing it as she wheels herself to the elevator, fixing a point in front of herself just to avoid the many people walking by her. Every metre she sees herself losing it in her mind's eye, almost running to the elevator, reliving the moments she had been so lucky to forget for the past few months. She clenches her panic, nodding to someone that holds the elevator for her as she rides down with a few young Associates that she remembers the firm receiving six months or so prior to her last full memory. She zones out their inane chatter, their unpressed suits and their unpolished attitudes, her eyes darting towards the slowly descending numbers, willing the elevator to go faster as she concentrates for the nought to appear in an assortment of blue diamond shapes on the console that label her imminent escape.

She feels the pressure in her chest, something alien and unlike herself as she wheels herself towards the exit, keeping her head down against the possible list of faces that she could encounter along the way.

She can hear him calling her in her mind, that tense framework of his deep voice haunting her memories as she reaches the sidewalk.

It's then that a wave, a torrent of the past hits her full pelt.

 _He had been chasing her alright._ She had reached her end, desperate to get away from him. To rid herself of the pain he had continued to throw at her full pelt. That he had thrown for weeks prior to that life changing moment.

She had let him completely go, with one step of a Manolo upon uneven tarmac.

He hadn't lied. She _hadn't_ looked both ways.

 _Silver and chrome and rust and cracking bone and done..._

She feels her heart race then, as she begins waving, just below frantic as she hails a taxi. She stuffs herself into the nearest cab, ignoring the protest from her leg and hips, as the driver folds the wheelchair into the trunk of the car, slamming the door down before climbing inside.

"Where to M'am?" The driver asks, looking at her through the rear view mirror.

"Uh…." She stammers, her mind scaling the few viable options.

Her Apartment. _A no go without her crutches._

Mike and Rachel's. _Too close to home and the source._

Harvey's... _completely_ _out of the question._

She's grateful for having her bag with her, an assortment of overnight things stowed away for moments just like this.

 _Toothbrush._

 _Thong._

 _Make up._

 _Charger._

 _Ipad._

She vaguely remembers researching disabled access for a client a year or two back. The best Hotel in New York was beautiful, if not rather pricey. It's a good thing that she came into money recently.

"The Mandarin Oriental." She reams off, watching as the car moves into traffic, picking her phone out of her pocket to text Rachel a cancellation. Something about being tired after Physio, and promising to reschedule.

Forty Eight Hours. That's how long she'll give herself away from this mess.

* * *

 **IIIIII**

It occurs to Harvey, somewhere in the afternoon, amongst a barrage of meetings and negotiations and paperwork, that Donna never called by. Strange, considering her agreement to meet Rachel for lunch, and their words over breakfast.

He directs himself to Rachel's office, knocking on the glass door.

"Harvey," Rachel greets, looking up from a stack of paperwork. "What can I do for you?" She asks, smiling warmly.

He and Rachel have met a common ground over the past few months. She had been an emotional crutch more than Mike had, after Donna's accident. From it, had developed an affinity for the bright young woman, growing beyond her job role and the glass walls of the firm that they often shared.

"Donna met you for lunch today, right?" He queries.

"Uh, no." She frowns. "She was tired, so she cancelled. Didn't she tell you?"

He double takes the information, his face ironing out into an obvious disappointment. "No." He says, before recovering his shock. "I'm sure she's just sleeping. Don't worry about it." He assures her, half smiling as he walks out of the office.

There's always been one thing...one person that he'd leave the office early for. Over the years, their fights, disagreements, her being fired, her leaving him, his trials with Louis, where the topic and mere presence of her got in the way, had always caused him to act out of step with his ridgid work life.

He isn't intuitive like her. Not on a personal level. But over the years he has slowly and unknowingly developed a kind of sixth sense where she is concerned.

 _Something is off with her. He knows it._

* * *

 **IIIIIII**

He marches to Mike's office, having just come from there not an hour previous.

"Geezus, Harvey. If you want to hang out just say, and I'll text Rachel." Mike reams the words, glancing at his best friend as he stalks into his old office.

"Mike, I'm gonna have to take the afternoon off," Hearvey informs him.

"Harvey...we've only got two days until this depo? I'm already neck deep in paperwork as it is. I'm not a miracle worker." Mike points out, alarm riding his features.

He dodges a joke about the kid's penchant for charity in his mind. "Mike. _It's Donna_...,"

"She okay?" He frowns, concern taking the place of any other emotion.

"I...don't know. I just. She didn't meet Rachel today and I...I know it's...stupid...I just...I have a feeling,"

"Well, they _are_ few and far inbetween." Mike says, glancing up to plant the humorous remark with a practised ease.

"Mike." He groans, giving his partner a heavy look.

The self satisfied smirk falls of the younger man's face. "Will you relax? Just…. _ **go**_ …I got this." He waves off his friend, looking back to the stack of papers arranged in front of him. "You still owe me."

"Thanks Mike," Harvey mutters, all but marching to the elevator.

* * *

 **IIIIII**

The door swings open on its hinges, with him pay no mind to shutting it.

"Donna?" He calls, gliding over to 'her' bedroom. The door is ajar, as he tentatively pushes it open.

"Donna," He repeats, quieter, conscious of her possible unconsciousness as he opens the door.

Nothing. A perfectly made bed, and a suitcase. A book and small bottle of face cream by the nightstand.

He huffs in frustration, leaving her room in favour of his own.

Again, nothing. She's not in his en suite either. Or the bathroom, or in the kitchen or the lounge.

She's not replied to his messages either.

He curses under his breath, fishing his phone out of his pocket as he presses the speed dial shortcut to her cell, sliding the phone against his ear in the process.

The dial tone irritates him further, until her voice sounds on the other end. For a second his intuition jumps at the sound, until the words sound in his ear.

' _It's Donna. Leave a message_ ,' comes the distinctly tuneful invitation.

"Donna," He says, swallowing. "Where are you? You told Rachel you were tired, but you're not at mine. I'm...worried." He pauses, hating himself a little for the admission of such a truth. "Just...call me." He says, before ending the call.

He realises then. He has one place left to check.

* * *

 **IIIIIII**

Maybe she just...went home, climbed the stairs like the stubborn ass she often is and just... _fell asleep_. It happens. He assumed that she'd want to go home eventually - no matter how much he enjoyed her being there with him, over the past month and a half. He knew the time would come, he just...thought he could _tell her_ first. Tell her what she meant to him, and at the very least, have her promise a few things. Perhaps...change a few things between them first. He hadn't wanted to push things. She had been broken, and he wanted her to heal. For them to be them again before he tested the waters.

He was starting to see a pattern between them.

Bad things always came at the apex of him realising things about their relationship.

 _She overstepped the mark. He got angry._ _ **She got fired.**_

 _He nearly lost her to the law. She pressed him when he wasn't ready._ _ **She left him.**_

 _She kissed him. He got angry. She tried to leave. Again. It scared him._

 _He followed her._ _ **Only this time, the world threatened to take her from him**_ _ **completely**_ _ **.**_

He was just starting to see, with newer eyes, post Paula and Scottie and Zoe and all the woman that had filtered through his life alongside her.

It's her. _She_ is his constant. She _always was...since that very first meeting._

But still, to this very day, he keeps withholding from her. And she runs from him.

The why, was still up grabs.

He slumps onto her sofa, looking about himself. Feeling at a loss.

He speeddials the familiar number.

"Rachel. She's not at her apartment. She's not at mine, and she's not picking up her cell. I need your help."

He nods, hearing the brunette fly into action on the other end of the phone.

* * *

 **IIIIII**

She keeps forgetting that she can't drink on the pain meds, which are the kind to make you severely nauseous if you were to mix them with so much as a one shot of alcohol. Unfortunately for her, she has weeks upon weeks worth of medication swimming in her veins.

She huffs, leaning backwards on the plush bed. The Mandarin Oriental was the kind of place that businessmen lavished in, with it's over a grand a night price tag for a room. It feels especially strange that the decor nearly matches own her apartment, that creamy gold, jet black, tope and white decor, with regal patterned bedding, the glass mirrors behind the bed and the girlish bouquets of pink and fuschia roses adorning all the tables of various sizes.

 _She was literally paying a grand a night to feel vaguely at home._

Her eyes catch at the second call in the last half an hour.

 _Rachel._

She rolls her eyes, still seething.

They _all_ kept this from her.

They must have all known, and either chose not to tell her, or were silenced by Harvey.

As far as she was concerned, that made them all culprits in this unsavoury cover up of her own life.

Images keep flooding back to her. Images of him _telling her_. Of Paula Agard in his office, possessive and confrontational, like a woman scared of losing her grip on a man like Harvey. Of the pain and the hurt and anger she had felt at Harvey's aggressive reaction to her kissing him.

She never usually blames all when it can be traced back to one. She's always been so rational before.

But..she lost her memories. The very things that made her Donna. _Surely, someone, one out of all of them thought that she deserved to be told the truth about what she had lost?_ And for him to pretend...with her. To ignore the recent past. No wonder he had seemed guilty at the beginning. No wonder he's been to overly attentive.

The questions begin to mount with every lost memory that resurfaces in her mind. With every lash of anger in her gut, and every word he's said echoing still in her mind.

She sighs then, watching her phone vibrate for the third time in an hour.

She picks up her phone, feeling the wave of emotion dredge in her gut.

" **None of you told me**." She says, avoiding pleasantries.

"What? Donna, where are you?" She hears Rachel ask in a panic.

"Why didn't any of you tell me? What had happened before. With Harvey. _Paula?_ "

"Donna...I….please just tell me where you are and I'll come to you." She hears Rachel plead.

"Is Harvey with you?" She asks, the accusation in her voice.

"No. He's not. But he's worried sick, Donna. Please...I know you must be angry at me, but I need to explain." She offers.

She pauses. _She knows Rachel._ Harvey, she can't be sure of anymore, but Rachel, she knows. The young woman has never been anything other than kind and considerate to her feelings. Especially regarding all things Harvey.

She sighs, silence sifting out of the anger. "I'm at the Mandarin Oriental. Room 214." She relinquishes. "But Rachel?" She adds. "If Harvey arrives at my door instead you, I won't just be mad at him, I'll furious with you _in particular_." She warns.

* * *

 **IIIIIIII**

 _As always, please feed the kitty! (God knows after 7.10 we need it!)_


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: Thankyou so much for the feedback guys. It really helps considering this massive hiatus. Here is the final continuation of this story. I need to finish 'Donna' and then hopefully I can work on the other fics that people have been asking for, and help out at **darveyfics**

* * *

 **IIIIII**

Chapter 8

 **IIIIII**

Donna.

When she hears a knock, an hour later and wheels herself to the door, the fact that she can't glance in the spy hole flits through her mind for a second until Rachel's voice sounds on the other end.

"Donna, it's just me."

She sighs then, unlocking the door before wheeling herself backwards, stepping out of her wheelchair to sit on the bed, her hands bracing her every difficult move.

She hears Rachel open the door behind her, folding her arms around herself.

Rachel's expression is a familiar sight, supportive and sympathetic.

"I know you must be angry with me. With... _all of us_." Rachel starts.

"Why didn't you fill me in, Rachel?" Donna frowns, her words slicing through the notion of any bullshit between them.

"Donna," She watches Rachel's face bend immediately, her thin eyebrows furrowing above those watery looking eyes as she joins Rachel, sitting at the edge of the bed. "What do you remember?"

"Well...what I _assume_ is everything." She says, tensely. " _My promotion. Harvey dating Paula Agard. Him...telling me._ _Malik._ Me...kissing him. Him, losing his shit. Me...ploughing into a truck _trying_ to..."

"Donna, you have to understand." She says in a rush. "The fallout, between the two of you...it nearly broke the firm in half. Louis started fighting with Harvey, getting in the middle of you two. The two of you fought like... _I've never_ seen you fight like that with _anyone before_. You were at each other's throats. Like cats and dogs. It was...more than messy." She explains.

"That's not enough, Rachel. You're my _best friend_. You should have told me." She reminds her.

"Look. After Harvey saw you get hit...he passed out. And then he was…"

"Let me guess? _Racked with guilt_?" She supposes harshly.

"Donna...he's been terrified of losing you this entire time. And then I saw how he was with you. How attentive and considerate he started to be. I _**know**_ that he loves you. He even told Mike...that he had 'made a mistake with Paula'. That she wasn't _you_."

"And coming from him...maybe that would have changed things, but instead, like a coward, and like always, he avoided telling me the truth about the past and you all just...went along with that." She accuses, her face bending with distaste of the fact.

 _It was true. They had._ Somehow they had all sided with Harvey in some strange way. She could see the realisation in Rachel's face.

"You're right, Donna." Rachel sighs, nodding. "Maybe we should have told you. Or encouraged him to tell you himself. But to be honest...after the past few years, we were just happy to see you _both_ happy. _You must have noticed how different he's been_? Even just between what you remembered before and now? How happy he's been to have you at home with him. He's been like that at the office too, Donna. And he knew that there was something wrong with you today without even knowing that you had cancelled on me. He's...changing. **I know it**." She smiles. "And I'm sure...as I'll ever be sure about anything that if you'd have broached the subject with him, he'd have told you himself." She reasons.

The silence seeps in for a moment, as Donna watches her friend hanging on her every look.

"God, you're becoming such a lawyer." Donna remarks, a sudden softening to her voice. "And since when did you know Harvey better than I do?"

She smiles at the redhead's faux gruffness. "Since, we found a common ground..." She replies, noticing Donna waiting for the answer. " **You**." She reveals.

"Not Mike?" She quips. _They both know that the bromance is very strong between the two men. If they weren't both straight, as it were, they'd be having a very different conversation right now._

Rachel chuckles then, sighing with more than an ounce of relief. "I don't know why he hasn't told you yet, but maybe, you should hear him out if he does?" She offers, smiling softly.

Donna huffs, all immediate tension and stress falling to the floor despite her lingering reservations.

"I just...everything flooded back, and it..panicked me. I've never been this out of the loop before." She admits. "Come to think of it, I've never freaked out _quite as much_ as I have over the last year or two."

"I understand. You've been through a lot. With Harvey, especially. I can see where maybe we were wrong not to tell you, and I'm sorry. We just wanted you two to move on. To heal. In ways, you might not have been able to, had you remembered everything from the very beginning."

She looks slyly at her friend, that nag of doubt in her gut pulling away from it in favour of believing her trustworthy friend.

 _Maybe she would have blamed him. Refused to see him. Maybe it could have broken them for good in ways they could never have come back from._

 _Maybe she'd never know, and maybe she had to take a chance on that._

"I did wonder how long I'd have to be hauled up in this place for." She remarks, that slice of humour etching her words as she indicates the room around her.

She watches as Rachel looks about the hotel room in awe.

"You're the only person _in the world_ that I know could manage to find a hotel _close_ to central park and with the same decor as your own apartment." She compliments, looking to her friend.

"What can I say. _Just the remarkable power of 'Donna'_." She says, smiling finally.

* * *

 **IIIII**

Harvey.

He's pretty sure that he's worn a hole into his own carpet, pacing about the place over the past few hours. He hadn't had the heart to take off his shoes when he arrived, too focused on the possibility that Rachel would be able to coax Donna out of wherever she had wound up. He had been worried sick, with not even alcohol being able to calm his frayed nerve, before Rachel had text, finally, explaining that Donna was safe but angry, and for him not to press it right now.

He owed Rachel the world, of late. He'll make sure that she and Mike get a substantial vacation as a 'thank you' for being there for him, and for Donna. Somewhere up market and exclusive. Priceless. All the bells and whistles could find.

He hears the door lock disengage, his heart almost leaping out of his chest in a way that makes him judge himself a little too harshly in the moment. He watches it open widely, as a familiar sight wheels herself in.

He sighs heavily, purposefully, as he takes her in.

She's guarded. But she's here, at least.

" _ **Where the hell have you been** ,_" He asks tiredly, that pull of raw emotion hanging in his eyes.

"Harvey...I think we need to have a talk." She says, wheeling herself past him and over to the couch. "Don't you?" She offers, not looking at him.

He watches her, before noticing his glass on the kitchen counter and hesitates, leaving it there as part of a slowly changing rhythm between them. _If she can't drink, which he knows she can't at the moment, then neither will he._

He makes his way to sit opposite her, feeling the tension move off of her in tangible waves. He watches as she readies herself in a way that only comes from having to rehash something that she's possibly already worked out in her mind.

He moves to sit forward as his hands rock slightly, clasping together with a nervousness. His jaw flexes, his eyebrow furrowing in anticipation of the words that could come out of her mouth.

" **I remember**." She tells him.

He feels himself sink into the couch slightly, his shoulders slumping. His feet cross at the ankles, his mouth twisting as his bottom lip catches in his teeth.

Inevitability. _He should have known._

"Everything?" He asks, tiredly. Already knowing the answer.

"Everything." She nods, folding her arms.

"I was going to tell you tonight." He admits, limply, laughing to himself.

"Bullshit." She fires at him.

"No... _not_ bullshit. It's been...eating me up. I...had things I wanted to say to you, and things I wanted to change and I knew that...we weren't gonna change those things until I told you the truth of what happened in the months leading up to that...moment."

"Then why didn't you?" She asks, a spikeyness to her voice.

"Because you were broken, Donna. You were dealing with everything and trying to heal, and I...I didn't want to burden you with that." He frowns, the pressure thick in his voice.

"Burden me, or take responsibility for how you made me feel?" She fires at him then. She backtracks slightly, as she catches the potent flash in his eyes. "What exactly was all of this? Having me here. Just a way to quash the guilt?" She gestures about them at his perfect veneer of a world that she's stepped fully into over the past few months.

" ** _No_**." He assures her, before a worn in frown breaks his insistence. "Maybe," He sighs. "..a little, but I..." He shuffles in his seat then, shrugging off the look on her face for the way it makes him feel. A like a piece of shit dishonest liar of a man. "Listen to me. When what happened... _happened_...when I saw it happen I just...I panicked. But I also realised...how much you mean to me."

He hears her groan, her hands spiking into claws at the sheer frustration that his words seem to evoke in her.

"Harvey...how much, _exactly_ , do I have to mean _to you before_ you get your shit together?" She frowns. "For instance...Paula? Were you _ever_ going to tell me that you were dating her, or were you just going to avoid the subject with me and hope I don't remember, **as well** as the horrific things you said after? Which are still flashing up in my mind by the way...it's not nice to relive that." She informs him.

"Donna. I'm not seeing her, anymore. I..."

"Let me guess? **She** left **you** , _because of **me**_? And _like always_...it comes down to me, again, for _no reason_ at all." She interrupts, her eyebrow arching only to emphasise her frustration.

It's like she's heard it all before.

"Hey. Aren't we forgetting that _you_ kissed me? When I was with someone?" He snaps, his temper starting to fray.

"AND I APOLOGISED. _FOR THAT_. So, stop throwing it back in my face!" She says, looking away from him just to rechannel the building anger in her.

 _And just like that. They're back again. Back to the beginning of the end of this mess between them_.

He closes his eyes, drawing a breath to get him and them out of this emotional tangent that they keep veering so willingly off of.

" ** _Donna_** …" He says, sitting forwards, trying to meet her stubbornly avoiding gaze. "I don't want to fight with you anymore." He says, commanding her attention. "She and I...we ended things, when I told her that I wanted to be there for you. She expected to...be the dutiful girlfriend, and I told her that _that_ just wasn't going to happen. So...she came to me and...helped me realise a few things I'd already kind of figured out. And that was...it."

"Harvey...I don't want your girlfriends telling you how you feel about me, I want _you_ to figure it out by yourself. But like always, you don't...and yes, **I kissed you**...when you were with someone...but you just...you ripped into me back then. As if I didn't matter worth a damn."

"I know I did. And I'm sorry for what I said to you. I didn't mean it. It was just because I've been so…" He sighs, the words catching in his chest.

 _This is it. Unplanned and unprepared. Not at all how he wanted._

"You've been what?" She asks.

He stands then, skirting the coffee table and moving to sit beside her on the same couch.

"I've been...so _**in love with you**_ , over the years, that the idea of it...terrified me. And instead of letting it be true, like I should have, I ran to one woman who was vaguely like you just to...take my mind off of it. Just to...avoid dealing with 'us'."

He's silenced her.

It took a decade, but finally...she's out of words for him.

"Huh." She says, finally sitting back into the couch's backrest.

"And when I _almost_ lost you, I figured out something else." He assures her.

"Yeah?" She queries.

"Yes." He nods.

"What did you...figure out?" She plays, that very Donna-like humour in her widened eyes.

" _That you're one of a kind, Donna Roberta Paulsen_." He tells her, feeling his chest lighten with every word as he takes her hand in his. "And not only do I _never ever_ want to lose you. I also don't want anyone else to have you either." He admits, smirking tiredly.

She's speechless. And he's grinning, his thumb tracing circles in the middle of her hand.

"Well...I...didn't expect _that_." She admits, her mouth twisting with a nervousness.

"Seriously?" He frowns, her words completely knocking him off kilter as he throws her a deadpanned look. "What exactly did you _think_ I was gonna say?"

"To be honest...I have no idea. I'm... _emotionally tired_ of working you out." She admits.

He grins then, scooting towards her and thankful that her left leg is broken and not the right as his left hand slides to the right side of her waist, gently pressing against her.

He chuckles, watching her genuine look of nervousness as his right hand slides from her own hand and into her hair.

"I'm glad you came back, tonight." He mumbles, his eyes glinting in the falling light.

"Don't I always?" She remarks dryly, her words quickly silenced with his mouth sliding eagerly against hers.

 _He tastes of eighteen year old Whiskey. She tastes like calm inevitability after a heavy thunderstorm._

The mere act of touching her like this makes him feel like nothing on this earth, his nerves lighting on fire as his crooked lips encourage hers to softly open for him. She is tentative and soft in her own approach and lets him take the lead, as his tongue slides against hers, flesh on flesh. She feels herself slowly getting acquainted with his mouth and lips and teeth and tongue. Her nails are the only thing to betray her arousal, as they gently scratch against his jawline, feeling the five o'clock shadow of a long day and igniting the memory of the last time she touched him like this. The last time she had marked him for 'keeps'.

He moans against her mouth as his fingers thread through her coppery hair, now hanging loose in waves against her back. He takes in a breath, smelling the inviting notes of vanilla and caramel and cinnamon, all evocative scents that spell her name with neon lights in his head. It's only when she releases a moan, and breaks apart from him, gasping in the small space between, that he realises his own limits.

"We have to stop." He insists, resting her forehead against hers as a confused smile breaks out on her lips.

"Yeah...you're right." She sighs in agreement, her hand sliding to the nape of his neck at the worst possible time.

"Did it hurt? To say that?" He jokes.

She groans, playfully jabbing him in the ribs, earning a chuckle to escape in the space between them. "Jerk." She mutters.

He only grins wider against his own admission, leaning forward, and presses his lips against hers as a small gift final to himself, before sitting back enough to look at her, remarking at the sheer sight of her like this.

 _Cheeks flushed._

 _Her red hair wild against her face._

 _Lips swollen and yet still so inviting._

 _And her hazel eyes challenging him in one of a hundred ways._

She feels his left hand still at her waist, his thumb and index finger betraying his arousal as they carefully press into her hip.

"We can't have sex." She states, ruining the moment.

 **They both know it. She's just putting it out there as a marker.**

"But know...that if you weren't so broken...I'd be thoroughly, _thoroughly_ enjoying myself right now." He smirks, his jaw flexing at the colourful images in his head.

She grins then, the hand that has dropped from his nape, sliding against his cheek. "Whipped cream, huh?" She supposes, joining the dots together.

" _You know it_ ," He tells her, licking his lips. "But...just because we can't... _at the moment_...doesn't mean I don't still want to take you bed with me later." He assures her.

"Noted." She smirks, watching him stand slowly.

"You hungry?" He asks her, his fingers sliding off of her back in a gesture that's become common place for them both over the past week or two.

"Always." She smiles, as he makes for the kitchen. She's lucky that the crutches she's been using are exactly where she left them, as she pulls them off of the back of the couch taking a step that seems so much sturdier than before.

She takes a seat on her particular breakfast stool, as she watches Harvey place a glass of her favourite non-alcoholic wine in front of her, her eyes charting a silent thank you for the gesture as she pulls the grape juice to her lips.

"So Specter...what are you making for me tonight?" She asks enthusiastically.

"I'd like to say... _something special_...but with what we have left in here, it's probably just going to be pasta." He admits. "I could order in?" He offers.

"Pasta sounds like more than I can cook, so...it's...perfect." She compliments, watching him restrain a smirk as he looks through the rest of the cupboards.

"Yes...Jackpot," He remarks triumphantly, as he shuts the freezer, turning to her with a look of victory on his face and something frozen in his hand. "You remember those steaks I marinated a few weeks ago?" He reminds her.

She moans lavishly. "Oh my god...with the garlic and mustard ranch-ey thing?" She queries.

"You got it." He smirks widely.

"Hmmm…." She moans in remembrance. "You _really_ know how to treat a lady." She smirks, watching him thoroughly in his element.

"Well...I'm learning." He admits, glancing at her over her shoulder.

* * *

 **IIIIII**

There is something so agonizing and yet simplistic about sleeping next to a woman that you're so very much attracted to, but can't actually have sex with yet.

He's not used to it. Sex has come so easily to him in his life, that now he has the person he wanted the most in the world, not actually being able to _have her_ , is driving him to distraction.

It's only been one night. One perfect night of breathing in sync and touching mutually in several places at once, and just being with one another, in his bed. In his home. _Together._

But as morning starts to arch over the horizon line, the golden sun unfolding it's rays into a dusky blue sky quilted with white cotton clouds, this would have been the perfect time to... _go down on her_.

 _The only problem?_

The mere insinuation of sex, in her current state is strictly out of the question. And not because _she_ had refused. But because he understands. She means everything to him, and her getting better has been at the forefront of his mind for so long now, that it naturally takes precedence over everything else in his world.

That's just the status quo.

If she's good. He's good.

And he understand the 'why', now.

And how the 'why' is everything in this scenario.

So, he has to wait, and be patient until she is in near perfect health, before they attempt the kind of things that he knows they are both _very_ capable of.

But, it doesn't stop him from waking up to a pool of amber and caramel coloured hair running along his shoulder and the softened sound of her snoring in uneven rhythms, to the feeling of wanting to make love to her. Instead he distracts himself by playing 'join the dots' with the twenty or so freckles nearest to him.

Occasionally, a dose of reality hits him, where he realises that she is a strange mix of silky soft pale skin, and a rather cumbersome off-white cast, that brushes harshly against the hairs on his leg and makes him worry that it's hurting _her_ more than him.

She begins to stir against him then, as her left hand slides across his stomach in a way that betrays her awareness of his morning arousal. He breathes in slowly, and reminds himself that it won't be long before it doesn't ache quite as much as it currently does when she touches him like that.

He looks down, watching her suppress a heavy yawn against his collarbone, her warm breath tickling his skin as she awkwardly navigates her cast, propping it back onto the pillow near his calf.

When her eyes finally flick up to his, it's like she's a cat and he's the all-too willing prey.

He's a smitten asshole and he knows it.

"Hey you." He says, his voice gravelly.

"Hey." She says back, smiling lazily as she softens into his side as much as she is able to.

"What do _you_ want to do today?" He asks expectantly.

She frowns then, interest fleeting across her face as she looks up at him. "It's Saturday? Don't you have work?"

"Not today." He shakes his head with a small smile, his right hand sliding around her waist. "See...I have this rather beautiful woman in my bed, who needs thoroughly spoiling today."

"Oh, _does she_?" She smiles.

"Yes." He nods, turning her slowly over so that she is on her back, as he hovers carefully over her, avoiding her leg. " _She does_." He nods, that flirtatious look in his eye as he bends down, kiss her with a slow laziness and a linger about the motion. She moans against his mouth when he brushes his body ever so gently against hers, her hands sliding along the flexing muscles of his shoulders, and stilling on his arms.

"You need to get off me...right now." She reminds him, her eyes becoming comically wide.

"Really? He groans, rolling his eyes against the blatant truth. "Can't we just," He mumbles against her shoulder. "Pretend?" He offers, waggling his eyebrows.

"I think deep.. _.deep_ down, you _know_ the answer to that." She purrs, enjoying watching him as he gives her a disappointed look, before climbing rather laboriously off of her.

"So Specter," she begins, watching him grasp a grey t-shirt from a nearby chair and pull it over his head as she picks her dressing gown off of the crutches that lean against the nightstand, before swinging herself over the side of the bed. "What _exactly_ do you have in mind?" She asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Hmm, well," He pauses, padding back over to her form, as it stands towel clad and crutch laden. "I was thinking...breakfast…then maybe a little shopping excursion - _with as little walking as humanly possible, of course_ \- and then," He pauses, his hands sliding around her waist in a way that makes her temporarily forget the metal appendages supporting her weight. "We come back here... _relax_. And just..."

"Just?" She repeats, her eyebrows raising as his face plays against the distance of her own.

"Just...learn a little bit more about each other." He offers, scooping her upper body against his own.

She laughs, gutturally, before leaning back to observe him. "You're desperately trying to think of activities to distract us from sex, aren't you?" She accuses colourfully.

He gives her a tired look, that quickly softens into a smile. "Uh... _Obviously_." He throws at her, before padding off to the bathroom.

She smiles to herself, watching as he disappears for a moment.

They really are going to be rather... _vibrant couple._

* * *

 ** _IIIIII_**

 ** _FIN._**

 _I may do a fast forward on this fic, but for all intents and purposes I think it's done! A__


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